


Until the Ink Dries: V

by EricaNoelle180



Series: Until the Ink Dries [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 20:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12307281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EricaNoelle180/pseuds/EricaNoelle180
Summary: Lysa was dead; pushed through the moon door. Now Sansa has a decision to make. Does she trust the man who murdered her aunt and betrayed her father or make a path on her own? Perhaps both? Only two things were certain. One, the game never ended and two, it seemed to have followed her to the Vale.First in the Until the Ink Dries SeriesA Season Five through Eight Rewrite.





	1. I: Mockingbird

**Author's Note:**

> So, I really really wanted this posted for the free for all day during Petyr Baelish's week on Tumblr. Just so you know my awesome beta and I, Alexie3008, have worked extremely hard on this. 
> 
> I really hope that you all enjoy it. A/N below about how this will work. 
> 
> Banner was created by the talented sansacfwinterfell

 

 

I: The Mockingbird

“ _I have only loved one woman, only one, my entire life....your sister.”_

The stone was cold. It almost reminded Sansa of the snow that would fall at Winterfell. While the Vale was cold, it was nothing compared to the summer snows she had grown up with. In fact, she missed the cold. She found that the sun and the heat didn't agree with her. Sansa had winter in her bones. The cold wasn't what bothered her. It was the deafening silence that lingered at the Moon Door. If she focused hard enough, she could hear the rushing wind from being so high up in the sky. The Vale was farther north than many of the kingdoms, but it wasn't even close to the cold that she knew.

She placed her palms against the cold stone floor, her red hair flapping violently as the cold wind churned through the Moon Door. She exhaled sharply as she glanced over her shoulder to get a glimpse of him. The tails of his doublet fluttered around his ankles. His ring studded fingers curled tightly into his palms, his knuckles white with the pressure. He was angry, that much was obvious. His face showed no emotion, but Sansa had never seen him look more honest. He stood stalk still, there was a certain serenity that radiated from his stature. He wasn’t a big man or a strong one, but what she saw now was not the man she thought she knew. He looked powerful and dangerous and the sight of him terrified her.

Sansa remembered meeting him for the first time. She remembered how when he smiled it didn’t reach his eyes; it was as though they were telling a different story. There was darkness in them and one that Sansa wasn't prepared for. His face and his eyes held nothing but cold fury. This went beyond the love for her mother or distain for his wife. There was more to the love story that was Petyr Baelish.

Part of her wanted to know more.

The other part of her was frightened.

This man just murdered what could be the last of her family. Her aunt Lysa was a woman who would have pushed her to her death in a jealous rage. She had woven her fingers through Sansa's thick red curls and had held her down, pushing her toward the wide open birth, staring at the ground that would break her bones. Sansa wondered if it would hurt, hitting the ground. She would never know and she once again had Petyr to thank for that. He saved her at the top of the Eyrie just like he had saved her from King's Landing; murdering those who wished her harm.

 _Why? Why her?_ Was it because she looked like her mother? Or perhaps it was something else? Sansa didn't know. If King's Landing taught her anything, it taught her that she was a fool. She had believed in nothing more than the fairytales her mother and Septa had told her. She believed them to be real. Yet, with one swing of a sword her father's head had rolled and it made her realize that life wasn't a song. She let out a soft giggle. Petyr taught her that too.

The sound of her small laugh caught Petyr's attention and he turned to look at her. Shyly, Sansa looked up at him. She was still kneeling on the ground where Lysa had pushed her down. She could see a flicker behind Petyr's eyes but she didn't know what it was. He put one foot in front of the other and slowly kneeled down in front of her. She wanted to say that he appeared kind but she wasn't sure if kindness was something he was capable of. He had just pushed a woman through the moon door, making her only child an orphan. Petyr held out his hand, offering it to her.

Did she take it?

Did she trust him?

Did she have a choice?

 _He saved me_. The thought chimed in the back of her head. All the awful things she had known he had done, was to save her. He murdered Joffrey and while he claimed it was to keep his enemies on their toes, deep down, Sansa wondered if it had all been for her. Yet, she remembered the whispers. She remembered how the court spoke of it when Ned Stark was arrested for treason. She remembered hearing how he held a knife to his throat; siding with the Queen. How could she trust the man who betrayed her father?

 _Because you've trusted him before._ That was the crux of it. When her engagement had come to an end, it was Petyr whom she took as a confident. It was Petyr who was a friend to her. It was Petyr who protected her and smuggled her from King's Landing. It was always Petyr. She knew of his betrayal before and she still conspired with him to flee King's Landing. But now, Sansa had come to the realization that knowing and seeing were two very different things.

“Sweetling?” Sansa focused on him again. She looked deeply into his eyes, trying to see if she could find that cold anger that had been there only moments before; but all she could see now was concern. Sansa just didn't know if he was concerned about her or himself. Her father once said that Petyr only looked out for himself. Despite that, her father still put his trust in him and paid for it with his head. Ned Stark had been a fool. “I need you to trust me.”

_Am I also a fool?_

Sansa slid her hand into his and he pulled her to her feet. He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her away from the gates of the moon door. Sansa took one last look over her shoulder, thinking perhaps she would see Lysa standing there as she had been when she entered the chamber. She wasn't and it surprised Sansa that she felt relieved. It was the same relief she had felt when Joffrey was choking on his own vomit.

She didn't know what was happening to her. She never thought she would almost be rejoicing from someone’s death and yet here she was, happy that the second person she had watched die was murdered. She knew it was because both of those people, Joffrey and her Aunt Lysa, had harmed her in many ways. Sansa spent months in captivity with the Lannisters and during that time, Joffrey abused her in the most vicious of ways. She would forever have scars upon her skin from the marks that he had left from his beatings. Then of course, there was the fact that he had murdered her father; then his grandfather arranged for the rest of her family to be massacred.

Yes. Sansa was happy to watch him die. It was something that she had fantasized about since the moment she woke on the cold ground on the same stage Joffrey beheaded her father. She watched him die every night in her dreams but her fantasies were nothing compared to the reality of it.

Sansa turned to look at Petyr, whose hand was still resting on the small of her back. The pressure caused a tingle to go down her spine, something she barely noticed before. Her mind was still frozen on the look on her aunt's face as Petyr pushed her to her grave but Petyr seemed completely unfazed as though he hadn't just murdered a woman.

Slowly Sansa came to her senses and noticed that he was pulling her, not away from the chamber with the moon door but simply to the side. She tosses him a look of confusion; not understanding why he wouldn't be fleeing. He had just murdered another person and wasn't already away to a place where the blame could be put upon someone else. Petyr pauses in the middle of the chamber. He places his hands on the side of Sansa's face. “I need you to trust me, Sweetling.” Petyr then leans in and kisses the top of her forehead. The moment his lips touched her skin, Sansa remembered that moment in the courtyard when their lips met. Sansa remembered the taste of mint. It only a moment and Petyr pulled away quickly.

And then all chaos broke loose; Petyr did the very last thing that she would have ever expected for him to do. He called the guards. Pandemonium erupted and suddenly Sansa was pushed to the side, watching as guards all but appear out of the stone. She watched as the news was broken to Robin and his grief overcame him. No one gave her a second look, too focused on the dead Lady of the Vale and the screaming heir. Sansa just watched the scene unfold. Men were sent out into the mountains to find her body. Robin was having a screaming fit, his nurse maid trying to comfort him. Petyr was speaking to some of Lysa's men, explaining what happened. She couldn't hear what he was saying and Sansa found her feet gravitating toward him. She stood a few paces back but listened carefully.

“She was devastated beyond reason. I tried to calm her, sooth her but she just wouldn't listen. She stepped outside the door before I could –” and with that, his voice broke and if Sansa hadn't watched him murder Lysa first hand, she would have believed him. “Robin, come here.” Petyr whispered as he reached out and pulled the quivering boy. It almost looked as though Petyr actually cared for him. He whispered something to the boy, who just nodded. Almost as though Petyr had given Robin some magic tonic, the boy calmed. “I think it would be best that the Lord of the Vale to be taken to his chambers, he has received a shock. It will be best if he rested.” The nurse simply pulled Robin from Petyr's embrace but he put up a struggle; causing Petyr to usher him gently away but still showing him affection.

Through Sansa's shock addled mind, she realized what Petyr had just done. He had given Robin the power to become Lord to the Vale but also inserted himself as his guardian. If Petyr controlled Robin then he controlled the Vale. Lysa had been the power over her son and therefore over the Vale and while Petyr had some influence over her, the mania she exploded with it was clear that Petyr didn't have as much control as he would have liked.

_Perhaps that is why he killed her? For power? Not for me?_

“Call the Lords of the Vale. They will need to be brought to the Eyrie.” A few of the guards nodded and in agreement. The guards nodded while asking a few questions. Petyr answered them with perfect mixture authority and grief. The guards easily fell in line with what Petyr was saying. Sansa couldn't help but admire him for that. In the mass of people who were rushing around, trying to discover what happened and what to do, Sansa could only focus on Petyr.

“Lord Baelish, Lord Nester Royce's holdfast is right below the moon door. He has found bodies before; it might be wise if we alert him.”

“Yes. Of course. Lord Royce. I forgot his holdfast was right below.” He hadn't. Sansa knew that Petyr remembered exactly who was below the moon door and didn't relay that information for a reason. Whether he wanted to appear distraught and therefore forgetting important facts in order to play the guards or had more devious reasons, Sansa didn't know. Either way, Petyr was playing the part beautifully. “He must be alerted and his men join mine in the search for....in the search for Lysa.”

“I'll have Mya Stone arrange for transport.”

“No.” Petyr looked at the guard who seemed taken aback at the order. Petyr pressed forward before the guard could question him. “I want you to go directly. Lysa deserved more than to have some bastard girl deliver the news. You and your men have made your way down the Eyrie without her.” That seemed odd to Sansa. _Who was Mya Stone and why did he not want her to go down to Nester Royce's holdfast?_

“Very well” and with that, the guard turned and made his way out of the chamber. Petyr made a few other commands of other guards. Sansa was about to make her way over to him when she felt a hand on her forearm. She turned to see another guard looking at her. She recognized him for she had spoken to him only hours earlier and it was clear that he remembered her.

“You. You were the girl that the Lady summoned. What did you speak of? Did you see her jump?” Sansa stuttered slightly, unsure of what to say. She could feel her breathing pick up and her heart begin to beat faster. What should she say? Should she lie or tell this nameless guard the truth? No. He wouldn't live to see the next day. Petyr would find a way to end him if it meant keeping himself safe. Lie? Tell him that he saw her jump?

“Alayne” Sansa's brow furred. _Who was Alayne?_ She felt a hand on her other arm and saw Petyr on her other side. “You must excuse my daughter. She has had a bit of a shock.” Suddenly, it quickly made sense. She was Alayne. She knew that Petyr had hoped to hide her in plain sight. No one must ever know who she was. Even Lysa had said that she was never to refer her as her aunt within earshot of anyone.

“Yes. I'm sorry. I'm just, seeing her jump...it, I can't.” Sansa let the tears fall down her cheeks. She wasn't sure if what she was feeling was real or she was forcing them to fall. Sansa had always been talented making tears seep out of her eyes. It was useful when she and Arya would fight and she needed her father to take her side. It had always infuriated Arya that her parents would believe her, especially when it was clearly her fault.

Petyr pulled Sansa to his chest and she buried her face there. She could smell his perfume on his clothing. She knew that the tears that she was crying were running onto his soft coat but she knew that he wouldn't care. If she appeared not to worry about the coat, then it would appear that the both of them were more distraught over Lysa's death than they really were. In the back of her mind, Sansa thought that her lack of emotion should concern her. It didn't.

Sansa nuzzled her face deeper into his coat and sobbed. Her hands made their way up his chest and her fingers curled into the fabric; her nails digging into his skin. Petyr raised his hand to her head and began to run his fingers through it. His lips came down onto the top of her head and kissed it. Sansa hiccuped at the affection and she could feel him smile against her head. His lips lingered a bit longer than normal in order for his lips to stop smiling. To the guards, it looked like an affectionate father comforting his distraught daughter. Sansa knew otherwise.

“If you would excuse me, I am going to take my daughter to her chambers. Please. She needs her rest.” Sansa lifted her head and saw the guard nod. There was a sad look on his face and Sansa knew that they had bought their little show; even though she realized that Petyr's affection wasn't fake. That kiss in the snow only proved that. “Thank you. I shall not be long. Please send Mya to her chambers. I don't want my daughter alone at a time like this.” The guard nodded again and Sansa felt herself being pulled away from the moon door. Petyr lead her into the hallway and towards her personal chambers.

They didn't speak. Instead, all she could focus on was the feel of his hand on the small of her back. His thumb was tracing small circles on her back through her dress. Her heart was pounding and it wasn't just because of the adrenaline from being a witness to a murder; and playing along to that murder's scheme. She willingly walked toward her chamber with him and Sansa realized that they were going to be alone. She was going to be alone with the man she just watched push her aunt through the moon door.

They reached her chambers and he all but pushed her through the door. Petyr quickly closed the door behind him, bolting it. Sansa simply stood in the center of the small room, just debating what she should do. The honorable part of her mind was telling her to confess what she had seen when the high lords came to the Vale. Then she remembered the kiss and every part of her wanted to do anything but the honorable thing.

Her father would be disappointed in her and Sansa found that she just didn't care.

Sansa was pulled from her musings at the sound of a chair being pulled across the room. She watched as he moved a bedside table to sit behind the chair. He took a washbowl and placed it upon the table. Petyr then grabbed the water that was used to rinse one’s body and poured it into the bowl. He then pulled out a dark black liquid and poured it into the bowl.

“Dip your head.”

“What? No!”

“Sansa listen to me.” Petyr crossed the room and took her hands into his. He looked directly into her eyes and then said “Your aunt is dead. The high lords of the Vale will descend upon the Eyrie in order to investigate her death. If you're discovered here and words gets out that Sansa Stark is alive and well being hidden in the Vale, Cersei will stop at nothing to have your head.”

“If it was such a risk, why kill her?”

Petyr paused before answering.

“The history between your aunt and I is a long and complicated one. Let us get through the aftermath of Lysa's death and I promise you that I will tell you everything you wish to know.” The look in his eyes was not something that she was used to seeing. It was not the cold and calculating one that always seemed to tint the grey-green shade of his eyes. “Anything you ask of me, it is yours.”

Sansa realized then that he desired her. He had kissed her only that morning, mere hours before her aunt summoned her and held her head over the moon door. She didn't have time to process that kiss but looking into his eyes now made her realize that he wanted her. His words earlier, seconds before Lysa was pushed from the moon door, he said he only ever loved her mother. Whatever desire he had for her, she wondered if it stemmed from that love. Sansa knew in that moment, that while he betrayed her father, he never would harm anyone of Catelyn's children.

“Okay.” Petyr smiled and for a second, Sansa could see a hint of relief flash in his eyes. Before she could comment the mask he wore when she was introduced to him was firmly back in place. Gone was any hint of desire or longing. Gone was the honest look of hatred she had seen in him when he watched Lysa fall to her death. Sansa realized then that Petyr and Littlefinger were two very different people; and neither of them would be willing to harm her; Petyr out of desire and Littlefinger out of ambitious gain.

“Perfect. Come sit down.” Petyr pulled her towards the chair and gently sat her down in it. She did as she was told but gave the basin a look of contempt. The water that rested in the bowl was pitch blank. Petyr saw the look upon her face and smiled. “It is nothing more than ash from the darkest of Weirwood trees mixed with vinegar and rose petals. It will darken your hair.”

“Why?”

“Sansa Stark is known to be one of the most beautiful young ladies in all the Seven Kingdoms.” Petyr didn't say the words with affection but instead with vigor as though it was a simple fact. Either way, Sansa could feel the heat radiate through her body and blush creep onto her cheeks. Petyr tossed her a wicked grin that only made the heat radiate through her body even more. “Another thing Sansa Stark is known for is her beautiful red hair. Many people will be coming to the Eyrie and you, my Sweetling, will hide in plain sight. This will change your hair color, hopefully to a shade close to mine.” Once again, Sansa found herself in a state of shock and surprise. Before she could reply, Petyr touched her forehead and dipped her head into the black water. He didn't hold her under but she could hear the pounding of the water against her ears. It was loud and the water echoed off of the side of the basin. She could feel Petyr's nails lightly dig into her scalp and she couldn't help but let out a soft moan. “Oh.”

Her eyes looked up and she caught sight of his. There was something else in his eyes now. That desire was back it was far more pronounced. Sansa couldn't look away, their eyes locked and neither would yield. Sansa could feel his fingers massaging her scalp. His touch was soft and slow. Sansa had never been touched this way by a man. She had been kissed twice, once by Joffrey and second by Petyr. Her father had showed her affection, in the form of father hugs and the occasional kiss of the forehead. The most she knew from a man's hand was cruelty. She knew Joffrey's hand beating her or his soldiers. She felt the bruises lingering on her body for days afterword.

Yet, Petyr's touch was nothing of that sort. It was gentle with only light pain when he would tug on her hair but Sansa found that she didn't mind it; but rather enjoyed it. Her eyes slowly fluttered shut and Sansa let herself fall into his skillful hands as they worked over her scalp. It was the same hands who not even an hour prior, pushed a woman to her death. All too soon, Petyr pulled his hands away from her head. Her eyes snapped open and she moved to sit up but Petyr placed his hands on her shoulders, telling her to stay seated. He moved away and Sansa was unable to see where he went. All she could hear was the soft splatter of the water against the basin. Petyr returned quickly and indicated for Sansa to sit up. She did as she was told and raised her head out of the water. He put a towel around her shoulders and Sansa could feel the water dripping down her back. She looked at Petyr again but his head was down, drying off his hands; black dye soaking the towel in his hands. Sansa wanted him to look at her.

“Why Alayne?”

“It was my mother's name.” Before Sansa could reply and inquire more, there was a sharp knock on her door. Petyr went and whispered something through the door. When he heard what he liked, he opened the door and let in a tall girl. She had short black hair with stunning blue eyes. There was something in her appearance that seemed familiar to Sansa but she couldn’t place it. She watched as the girl placed a hand on Petyr's shoulder and whispered something to him. Sansa found herself feeling envious of the familiarity between them. “Alayne, this is Mya. Mya this is my base born daughter Alayne.” Mya looked over at Petyr and it was clear that Mya believed her to be anything but a baseborn child.

“It is nice to meet you Alayne. I've known your father for a long time.”

“I'm sure you have.” Sansa snapped back, surprising herself. She wasn't sure exactly where the malice came from or why. Petyr simply looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He didn't correct her or say anything but she could see the lingering smirk on his lips. Sansa could feel the blush rise on her cheeks and she looked down. Sansa decided to blame the outburst on shock she was feeling. Yes. That was it.

“Mya, please assist Alayne in drying her hair. Be careful to keep the dye intact.” Mya nodded in confusion. Sansa knew that Mya was responsible for transport to the Eyrie and was not a lady's maid. This was by chance the first time that she had been asked to do such a thing. By the looks of her, Sansa could see that Mya was not one for womanly wiles. She almost reminded Sansa of Arya. Her eyes flickered to Petyr again. Back in King's Landing, Petyr had told her that he had seen Arya but Sansa didn't press for details. Looking at Mya now, Sansa wished she had. “Also, tell her everything she needs to know about being a bastard of the Vale.”

With no more acknowledgment Petyr left the chamber, shutting the door with a sharp click. Without further instruction, Mya moved into action. She picked up the basin filled with black water and carefully put it to the side. She grabbed another towel and practically dragged Sansa towards the small fireplace on the far side of the chamber. Mya grabbed a few logs that were leaning against the wall and placed them in the crate. She built a fire and Sansa realized that it was something she would have to know how to do, if she was to be a bastard.

“First thing you need to know and understand is that those of noble birth will do one of two things; ignore you or judge you.” Sansa wanted to correct her. She wanted to tell her that the nobles were kind and generous to all people; but she couldn't. Jon Snow stood out in her memory; and her mother. Her mother had been cruel to Jon simply because he was a bastard and Sansa had seen many others treat bastards the same way. “Being ignored is a kindness. However, you are an acknowledged bastard of a high lord. That will give you privilege. Still it is best to keep your head down.”

Mya took the towel she had grabbed and began working Sansa's hair dry. She pulled her closer to the fire and Sansa could feel the heat of the flames flicker across her skin. She hated the warmth for it reminded her far too much of Joffrey and King's Landing. Yet she said nothing; instead focusing on Mya's words. She wove stories of what it was like to be baseborn. The worst of what Mya said was the advances men made on her. She sounded bitter but Sansa refrained from asking about it. Instead she wanted to know something else.

“What of your father? Was he a high lord?” Mya's hand froze in her hair. It was only for a second but enough for Sansa to realize that she might have offended the girl. Before, Sansa wouldn't have cared if Mya was offended. She offended Jon all the time and he was her brother. Guilt filled Sansa at that moment. She never considered Jon's feelings before because he was nothing more than a bastard. Now, hearing Mya speak so frankly; it made Sansa question the life of a bastard, especially as it was to be her life now as well. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”

“It is alright. My father is dead.”

“I'm sorry, mine is too.” Mya grabbed her arm forcefully and made Sansa look at her.

“No. He is not. Your father is alive and well.” There was fierceness in her eyes that Sansa hadn't seen before. Mya, while slightly standoffish, had been kind. “You are Alayne Stone - the baseborn daughter of Petyr Baelish. Whoever you were before, whoever he is trying to hide is gone now.” _No._ Sansa thought, Alayne was temporary. She had to be. She was a Stark and could never be anything else, no matter what her last name was. Her mind then flashed to Lady and her death; Sansa sometimes felt that she died then too.

_Perhaps Sansa Stark was dead after all._

“How do you know Petyr?”

“I was in King's Landing a few years ago after my father decided he wanted to take brief interest in me. That was when I meant him. When my father shipped me back to the Vale, Petyr supplied me a gold allowance to keep him informed on the ongoings of the Erie.” Petyr had told her once that he had ears everywhere and the fact that Mya had worked for him, made sense. Sansa turned around and looked at the girl again. Her father had been in King's Landing and now was dead. Sansa, who had always been talented with riddles, suddenly realized who Mya's father was. Robert Baratheon.

Hours passed, the sun set outside while darkness overtook the sky and Mya continued to talk. Sansa learned what her life would led from this moment forward, becoming a bastard. She felt far guiltier than she ever had before. Her mind continued to focus on Jon and her cruelty towards him. Perhaps this was some sort of penance for her treatment and actions. She was being forced to play a role that she was never born into. She would be looked down upon those she once called her peers. She would be called a bastard and disrespected.

She had loved King Joffrey and that got her father killed. She prayed for Robb to win the war, instead his head was detached from his body and his wolf's head to replace it. She had hoped to find Arya but she was gone. She even wanted Jon to rescue her but she knew that he was still guarding the Wall; never one to break his vow. Sansa was once again a prisoner, but this time the capture was her own name. It was a capture that she loved and never wanted to part from; but she knew she didn't have a choice. Cersei wanted her head and Petyr saved her from that.

It always came back to Petyr.

There was a knock on the door and Mya jumped from her spot on the stone floor. Sansa's hair was completely dry. As Mya spoke through the door, Sansa stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was pitch black, matching Petyr color almost perfectly. Her skin seemed paler than before and while her features were the same, Sansa could hardly recognize herself. Sansa was still there, under the surface but the girl staring back at her was Alayne. They were different but the same.

Sansa's head snapped toward the door when she heard it open. Petyr stepped forward, with a satchel in his hand. He looked as he did hours earlier only with slight differences. His doublet was winkled and his hair in slight disarray. It appeared as though he was running for hours. There was dirt on the bottom of his shoes and Sansa realized that he had gone down to the the base of the Eire. Sansa wondered if they found Lysa's body. She continued staring at him and wasn't pulled from her trance until she heard her new name calling her several times.

“Alayne.” Sansa shook her head and saw that both Petyr and Mya were looking at her. Mya's gaze meant nothing but Petyr looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. There was heat there and Sansa felt her body flush. The flicker of desire was back behind his eyes, the same look he had when he kissed her in the snow. “You look beautiful.” Petyr tore his eyes away from her and looked at Mya. “You told her everything then?”

“Everything that she needs to know. She will do well as your daughter.”

“Perfect.” Petyr lifted the satchel and handed it to Mya. “For your trouble.” Mya began to protest but he held up his hand. “I need you to leave not just the Erie but the Vale. Go to the Fingers, take a ship somewhere. Anywhere. There is enough gold to buy you a cottage and maybe a few servants. You're a smart girl; I'm sure you can start a new business to keep you comfortable.” His eyes flickered over her again. “And I hear that Pentos treats their bastards very kindly.” Mya's hand went down to her stomach and Sansa realized what Petyr was saying.

“How did-”

“How did I know you were pregnant? I always know.” Mya didn't respond but Petyr sent her a cold smile. “I also know that you haven't told Mychel. Best that you don't. Leave. Raise your child. Be happier than you were here, loving a married lord.” Mya and him shared a look; a look that Sansa didn't understand. “Leave and never think of this place again.” Mya nodded and took the satchel filled with gold, sped through the door and never looked back. Petyr turned and shut the door behind him.

“That was kind of you.” She could see that he would want Mya gone. She knew too much and was a loose end. Petyr didn't like loose ends. Yet, she was used to him solving his loose ends with bolts and arrows. She never saw him pull the trigger himself, outside of Lysa. He always kept his hands clean. It was in great contract to her father who believed that the those who passed the sentence must swing the sword; and he repaid his honor with his head. “And here I thought you paid loose ends with a bolt to the heart.”

“I do adore your wit.” Petyr flashed her a smirk and stepped towards her. He took the strands of her black hair between his fingers. “It isn't has beautiful as your fiery red hair but it will do.” He chuckled. “Sometimes, there are circumstances that it would benefit to keep someone alive instead of killing them.”

“But Ser Dontos-”

“Was a drunk and a fool. Mya, was neither a drunk nor a fool.” He gazed at her pointedly. “If Ser Dontos had been captured or someone offered him more gold than I had, he would have easily spilled your whereabouts. Mya has something Dontos did not. A weakness. Mya will do anything for the child she carries and just like anyone else, she has a price that she can be bought. On top of that, she is smart. He dalliance with Mychel Redfort has taught her a great deal about men and the world. She knows what happens to those who disappoint me.”

“Like Aunt Lysa? She disappointed you.” Petyr didn't reply but the silence wasn't good enough for her. She watched him push Lysa through the moon door. She had power of him and he knew it; but what she couldn't tell was whether or not it caused him to be afraid or if for some reason, he found enjoyment out of it. “You promised that you would tell me about the history between the two of you.”

“I did, and I will. However, we have far more important things to discuss.” He held out his hand again. “Come, sit.” She hesitated for a moment and then slid her hand into his. He led her to the small bed her aunt had allotted her. She sat down beside him and Petyr weaved his fingers together with her. “Your aunts body was found at Lord Royce's holdfast. Her death has been confirmed.”

“Her death was confirmed the moment you pushed her through the moon door.”

“True.” He chuckled. “However, the story known outside this room is that of her suicide. Flight of fancy, something she has been known for. I will play the distraught husband and you, feeling the loss of your step-mother.” Sansa didn't reply, instead she gave him a pointed stare, trying to ignore the feeling of his thumb rubbing against her knuckles. This caused Petyr to sigh. “Something occurred between your aunt and I long ago. Long before you mother ever married your father. Her for the worst and I for...well, it made me who I am today. Is that enough?”

“No but I know it is all that you will tell me.” Sansa gave a frustrated sigh; an angry huff coming from between her nostrils. This caused Petyr to laugh for the first time since Sansa had known him. He had given her small chuckles and false smiles; but this laugh made it seems as though he was another person entirely.

“You are so much more than your mother ever was.” Sansa wanted to leap and defend her lady mother but Petyr pressed on. “The high lords of the Vale will be making their way to the Erie within the next few days. They will asset Lysa's death and they will decide what is best for Lord Robin. He is now Lord of the Vale but is still very young and very weak; they will want to control him and take him. We must keep him here.”

“You're his step father, why would the take him?”

“Because they do not like me. They find me too young and my past business dealings displease them. My marriage to Lysa didn't mean anything to them because she had already given Jon Arryn an heir. They will do what they feel is best for the Vale and if that means taking Robin away, then they will. However, we need to convince them that Lysa killed herself by jumping out that moon door and that it is best for Robin to remain here, under our control.”

“And if we don't? What then?”

“Then Lord Baelish and his daughter must find an escape from the Erie, especially if they believed I killed her.”

 


	2. Of Stark and Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter! Read and then review, telling me what you think!

II: Of Stark and Stone

 

“ _Everyone wants something, Alayne. And when you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him.”_

They all came far more quickly than Sansa had expected. By the time the sun rose on the fourth day, illuminating Sansa's new bed chamber with light, she could hear muffled voices in the Eyrie. Petyr felt that the small chamber Lysa had given Sansa was not worth her standing. It was a chamber meant for a servant and one they meant to hide. Yet, this chamber was meant for the daughter of a lord. It didn't matter whether or not she was a bastard. Much like Jon, she now had a chamber that included her as a member of the family. Her real father always included Jon in everything that their mother would allow.

The sun blistered through the windows and Sansa knew that sleep wouldn't reach her, not that it had before. After Petyr moved her to her new sleeping quarters and brought in more clothing than she had as Sansa Stark; she found herself alone for the first time in hours. She tried to sleep but it never came. All she could see were her aunt's final moments playing over and over in her mind. She remembered the feel of her hands gripping the back of her red hair.

Shaking herself of the unpleasant thoughts that refused to leave her. She pulled herself from the warmth of her covers and slid out of bed. Her feet touched the stone flooring and she made her way toward the widow. She looked out but saw nothing but white clouds. She had hoped for a moment that she would see snow. The cold would have at least been familiar. She pulled away from the window and moved towards the dress that had been picked out for her. It was all black and nothing like Sansa would have worn. It was made of fine fabric with no design to be seen. Sansa slipped off her pure white nightdress and into the dress. There were laces in the front of the dress that she could tie herself; and there was no need for a handmaiden.

Once dressed, Sansa went to the vanity and picked up a small necklace. It was a tiny mockingbird that Petyr had given her. He stated that if she was to be his daughter, then she should show what house she came from. Sansa put the necklace on and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't see Sansa for the woman before her was someone of a stranger. The long black hair and dark clothing were nothing of Sansa. The ice blue eyes should have been familiar but there was darkness in them that Sansa hadn't seen before. These eyes had seen abuse, death and fear.

She moved to do her hair but stopped, realizing that Alayne would simply let her hair hang around her shoulders. So, Sansa brushed it until all the knots were gone and her hair was straighter than it had been before. She was Alayne and she must play the part. She turned from the mirror and opened the door the hallway. Knights of the Vale littered the halls of the Eyrie. Everywhere she turned she saw another and another. She wondered if this was wise, for who was guarding the rest of the Vale if all the knights were here? It was a question that she would have to pose to Petyr when she saw him.

However, that thought flew out of her mind when Petyr speaking with several high lords. It was quite clear who they were by how they held themselves. It was a stance similar to how her father, her real father, used to hold himself. There was an air of power and authority to it that Sansa had always respected. Now, however, she could see that these men, and one older woman, used that authority to attempt to bully Petyr. Sansa felt a wave of protectiveness wash over her. She squared her shoulders and with a determined step, moved toward Petyr and the circle of lords.

“Do you honestly believe that moving Lord Robin away from the Eyrie is wise? He just lost his mother. He is a sickly creature, moving him could be his undoing.” Petyr's words were spoken with a smooth tone but Sansa could hear the threat and warning behind it. She wondered if they could hear it. “And he has grown rather close with my daughter, Alayne.”

“I didn't realize you had a daughter Littlefinger.” One of the lords snapped and Sansa could feel all their eyes focus on her. Sansa would have smiled demurely and preened under the attention. She would have nodded and let the men take over. Alayne however, was someone far stronger. “A pleasure Lady Baelish”

“Stone, my last name is Stone.” She looked the lord directly in the eye as though she was daring him to challenge her. She just admitted to being a bastard and she was going to be damned if she was going to be condemned for it. Jon was raised by their father Ned and knew the rule of honor. However, Alayne would have been raised by Petyr and there was very little honor in him; his daughter would be strong and just as cunning as him. That was who she was going to be and Sansa found it freeing.

“My apologizes.” The knight replied, sneering at her.

“Where were you born?”

“Gulltown.” Sansa turned toward the lord who asked her the question. He was standing behind the man who sneered at her and it took Sansa moment to realize that he was eyeing her but not because she was a bastard. Instead, it was as though this man was attempting to remember her. Sansa eyed him and she recognized him.

Yohn Royce.

It was a few years ago but she had met him during his travels North. He had taken his son, Waymar Royce, to the Wall. He had stayed with them a few days before and after his trip to the Wall. She had liked him well enough. He was quiet man and her father had admired him. Even then Sansa could tell that he was a man of few words but was highly intelligent. There would be a chance that he would recognize. Sansa made a note to stay away from him.

“Sweetling, may I introduce you to Lord Yohn Royce and his cousin, Lord Nestor Royce.” Nestor Royce was the man standing in front of him, only being a head shorter “Lady Anya Waynwood, Lord Gilwood Hunter, Lord Horton Redfort, Ser Lyn Corbray, Lord Benedar Belmore and Ser Symond Templeton.” A few nodded their head to her while the rest ignored her completely. She could still feel Yohn Royce's eyes on her. “These are the Lords Declarants.”

“They are looking into Lady Arryn's death?” Petyr nodded. “Odd. I imagined them more impressive.” Before any of them could reply, she turned toward Petyr. “Father, can I have a word with you?” He nodded and made their excuses to the lords. He linked their arms together before moving away. Eyes were on them but Sansa paid them no mind. She found that she did not care for their looks.

“That tongue will get you into trouble.” Sansa gave him a small smile before looking away. “Perhaps it is the hair but something has gotten into you. I enjoy it.”

“You said to be Alayne, and that is who I am being; _Father_.”

“Oh, I don't think so.” Petyr stopped at grasped her hand. His thumb traced over her knuckles and Sansa felt a jolt travel down her spine. She bit her lip and looked at him. If anyone else would gaze upon them, they would see a father looking lovingly his daughter, but Sansa knew Petyr's thoughts were anything but. Her mind flashed back to that kiss in the snow. “I think this is the most Sansa-like that I've seen from you yet.”

Petyr left her standing there, bewildered. She stood there frozen completely unable to process the meaning behind his words. This wasn't who she was. This wasn't Sansa. Sansa wouldn't dare stand up to a high lord or make such a comments for they were not the words of a lady. Sansa was demure and kind. She would have listened to what the high lords had to say and simply agree with them because it was the noble thing to do.

Alayne would be brash and cold. She would call out those who displeased her simply because there was no need to care about what other's thought of her. She would have been raised with no regard for honor but instead with quick wit and cunning ideals. Alayne would have never been naive enough to fall in love with Joffrey; a now dead king at the hands of her father.

For Sansa could not understand Petyr's words. Sansa and Alayne were two different people.

_Weren't they?_

Sansa didn't get a chance to ponder the words. Instead, she noticed the high lords heading into a small chamber. The knight didn't move and Sansa realized that high lords were coming together now to decide what was going to happen to Petyr. Sansa quickly made her way for the door but they shut and locked it. She slipped inside quickly, just in time for her not to shut out. A few lords spoke up, stating that she does not belong there. However, Petyr would hear none of it.

“She is my daughter and witness to her step-mother's suicide. She stays.” The conviction in his voice sent chills down Sansa's spine. The eyes of the high lords were on her but she gracefully made her way to the stone seat that was located behind Petyr. Corbray's eyes pouring into her with complete distain. It was clear that he held complete contempt for her. “I have already explained what happened to my wife and my position on having Robin removed from the Eyrie. Yet, that isn't why you are here. Not really. You want to remove me from the position as Lord Protector of the Vale. You would all be fools to cast me out now.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because winter is coming” This caused a few chuckles from the lord declarants but he caused ice to swell up in her blood, her family's words. He was saying her family's words. Why? What did he want from her? Why would he say something of her true nature? He had stated that Sansa Stark had to remain hidden; which is why he created Alayne. To the world she needed to be Alayne; but did the world include those declarants? “You all lived through the last winter. How many people did you know who died?” This caused the chuckles to end.

“And how are you going to help with that? Winter is cold in more ways than one. How can you stop people from dying?” Ser Corbray chimed in. He was young, very young. He could only be a few years older than her and most likely could not remember the last winter; because neither did she. She only heard stories but she was sure that winter was going to be far colder than the summer snows she was used to. Yet, it was clear that this Corbray was arrogant and had no real knowledge of what the cold really was.

_Was he really the only one from his family that could represent them?_

“Can I stop winter from taking lives? No. But I can tell you how to prepare for it; or at least keep the Vale thriving.” This caused more chuckles but Petyr didn't seem fazed. “You stock pile grain here at the Eyrie, thousands of pounds. You make the farmers share a third of their product. Then, when winter comes and the six other kingdoms are starving, sell them the grain at a high price. Not only will the people of the Vale be well fed from their own private stocks and the grain we return to them, but it will prevent the Vale from going into debt.”

The lord declarants were silent; all looking at Petyr in question. A few seemed impressed with the suggestion. It was minor, certainly but to them it would seem like Petyr's only way to stay in the Eyrie. Why would he play his only card now? They had not even begun discussing Lysa and her death and Petyr had already told them of his plans for the Vale? Petyr was far more intelligent than that. He wouldn't play his only leverage now.

_Unless he had something else to play._

“Very wise. I'm sure we can keep it in mind but it does not matter what you would do. Like my cousin said, Lord Robin will be fostered at Runestone and you will go back to wherever it was that you came from.” Lord Nestor proclaimed. “That is unless Lady Lysa didn't jump out the moon door on her own accord?”

“Come now Lord Royce, we all know how fickle Lady Lysa was. Look at Lord Robin. He still was weaned from her breast and the age of six!” Anya Waynewood stated, looking at Nestor Royce. Petyr began to speak up but she held up her hand. “I'm certain you have a solution for that as well, but let’s refrain from allowing you the last word, I'm sure it was clever.” She turned to look back at her fellow lords. “I do believe that it is possible for Lysa to take her own life; if given the right motivation. Threat of her son being taken away would do such a thing.” She gave Lord Yohn Royce a pointed look. It was clear that the idea of fostering Robin at Runestone was not a new idea.

“Losing her son and having him fostered are two very different ideas Anya and you know it. Taking Robin away from her would have done that boy a load of good.” Yohn replied and Sansa couldn't help but agree. The boy was weak and Lysa made him that way. Yet, he was only six and there must be a way to cure him of his dependency.

“Either way, her death is questionable.” All eyes focused on Petyr who seemed comfortable. He didn't seem as though several powerful members of prominent families were accusing him of murder. He appeared as though he was in his element. He had something up his sleeve and Sansa wished she knew what it was but Petyr was giving her no inclination of what he wanted to do. All she had was her family's words and she didn't know what they meant to him.

“I told you already what happened. Lysa and I argued. She felt that I was unfaithful. I haven't been. We were just married and there wouldn't have been time for such things even if I wanted to. She was so adamant that I give her a name of my lover, one that did not exist and when I didn't, she stepped off the edge of the moon door.” He said it with such heartbreaking emotion, Sansa might have believed him if she had not witnessed the murder first hand.

“Lysa was always crazed, ever since the day she wed Lord Arryn but I stand by my statement, nothing except the loss of her child would have made her step off that moon door.” Lady Anya repeated and Sansa felt her fear creep up on her. If they believed that Petyr was guilty then what would she do? Could she trust these high lords? They thought she was a bastard but would they trust Sansa Stark? Strange how a surname could change everything, what really was the difference between Sansa Stark and Alayne Stone?

“He is guilty. We all know it” snapped Corbray. “Perhaps he should take a trip through the moon door?”

“Now you're sounding like Sweetrobin.”

“Perhaps the child has a point.” Corbray argued in a hateful tone. Sansa couldn't understand why Corbray was completely focused on discrediting Petyr. She knew that Petyr could use his smooth tongue to talk himself out of all sorts of situations but instead, it was as though he was baiting Corbray. Why? Why would he do something so foolish? “Perhaps Lady Arryn couldn't stand the thought of you having a daughter? A lowly bastard one at that, disgusting”

“Alayne is a lady and my daughter. No one speaks ill of her in my presence. Do I make myself clear? You would do well to apologize.” The venom in Petyr's tone took Sansa by surprise. She had learned to tell when Petyr was wearing his Littlefinger mask and when he was being Petyr. Just like the moment when he pushed Lysa through the Moon Door, Sansa had never seen him more honest. “Apologize.”

“She is nothing more than a bastard. She is no lady.”

“Apologize. Or I'll ensure that you never step foot in the Eyrie again.” It was then that Corbray snapped. He lunged for Petyr, knocking him backwards. Sansa felt herself scream. She didn't even realize that she rushed toward Petyr. Fear gripped her. She couldn't imagine what would happen if Corbray killed Petyr. She knew that she could convince the Lords to protect her, that wouldn't be difficult but Petyr wouldn't be here. He would have died standing up for her and she couldn't allow that. She couldn't allow Petyr to be harmed. Her heart was pounding and fear coursing through her veins. She didn't want to lose him.

She rushed forward, hoping to pull Corbray away from Petyr, who he currently had pinned to the floor with a blade to his throat. She placed a hand on his shoulder, attempting to forcefully remove him but she wasn't strong enough. Corbray turned and balled his fists; striking her across the face. The blow was nothing compared to Joffrey's beatings but it was forceful enough to knock her to the ground. Seizing the moment, a few of the other lords quickly pulled Corbray off of Petyr. Sansa rushed to him and kneeled beside him. His coat was torn during the struggle, allowing Corbray’s blade to pierce the skin. There wasn't much blood for Corbray didn't have enough time to fully slice his throat and in the back of her mind, Sansa knew that Petyr would be fine. Sansa's eyes traveled south and she could see his chest underneath the torn coat. She could see the faint scar that started at his collar bone and went down in a jagged line until it was covered by the torn part of his clothing. All eyes were on Petyr and Corbray and none of the lords noticed Sansa's eyes trailing down Petyr. She remembered the feeling of his lips against hers and suddenly, she began to see him in a different light. She didn't realize when this started but Sansa suddenly she was in the middle of Petyr's game and she didn't want anything else. She wanted him.

“You're more beautiful than she ever was.” His voice was hoarse but his meaning was clear. Sansa looked over to Petyr and could see his gaze resting upon her. She could see the telltale smirk waiting to crop up upon his lips, despite the discomfort he clearly was in. He was waiting for her to do something; to realize something. He wanted her to show him, them something but she couldn't realize what it was. Time was running out and she realized that she was his final move in this small game. He was giving her a chance to prove herself but not to him, to herself.

_Winter is coming._

“ _I think this is the most Sansa-like that I've seen from you yet.”_

_Stark or Stone?_ Why not both? Suddenly, she understood what he wanted from her. He wanted her to be Sansa.

“He is the Lord Protector of the Vale and you could have killed him.”

“That was the general idea.”

“A foolish one” She snapped back. Sansa straightened her shoulders and looked at them all. She found that she pitied them. They were so stuck in her ways; her real father's ways. At least Ned had been honorable. He never would have condemned Petyr without hearing him first. They were all willing to kill him without reason; even though he was guilty; something they did not know. She learned that birth gave her no special privileges; if anything it brought her more torment.

“Lord Yohn Royce, I'm sorry for the loss of your son.” Sansa asked and gazed directly at the older gentlemen. He seemed startled but said nothing. Sansa pressed onward. “Waymar I believe his name was. You escorted him to the Wall a few years ago and I heard he was lost beyond the Wall. My uncle was lost in a similar way. While the loss of an uncle is nothing compared to the loss of a son, I still understand the heartbreak.” Truth was, Sansa hadn't thought of her Uncle Benjen in some time. She felt guilty for that.

“I don't-what?”

“You came to Winterfell, did you not?”

“Yes-but-how would you-”

“Because I was there. I dined with you every night for a week. We all did. Me, my mother, father and my siblings.” While the rest of the lords appeared confused, there was a spark of recitation in Lord Royce's eyes. She stood and just looked at her. “You would join my father in his solar for a few hours. He said he enjoyed your company. You would reminisce about the times he was fostered here. You had such a deep laugh. Still, I do suppose. And your son, he idolized you.” Lord Royce stepped closer. “Do you recognize me now, Lord Royce?”

“Lady Sansa?” The rest of the room went still as stone. No one breathed but she could feel Petyr's proud smirk pouring into her. This is what he wanted. She needed to remain hidden but if played right, these men would be able to protect both of them. Lord Royce's eyes darted between her and Petyr; trying to grasp the connection she had to Petyr and how it would have led her to hiding in the Eyrie. “I-how – why are you here?” He narrowed his eyes at Petyr, who was pushing himself up into a better position “You tell lies right to my face? You little worm!”

“Lord Baelish has told many lies, all to protect me.” Her heart rate sped up and her breathing increased; she knew all eyes were upon her. They were taking her in with far more scrutiny than before. “Ever since my father was executed, I've been a hostage in King's Landing, a plaything for Joffrey to torture or Queen Cersei to torment. They beat me, they humiliated me, and they married me to the Imp. I had no friends in King's Landing, except one.” Lady Waynwood stood and placed her hand gently on Sansa's shoulder. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes. “He saved me, smuggled me away when he had the chance. He knew that I would be safe here in the Eyrie, with my own blood, my aunt Lysa. My own home, Winterfell, was sold to those who murdered my mother and brother. The Lannisters have friends everywhere, even the Vale. Which is why he posed me as his bastard, for no one looks twice at a bastard.”

“You're secret is safe with us child.” Lady Waynwood stated in a kind voice. However, Sansa could see the calculation behind them. She was planning something and Sansa wasn't sure what it could be, but she was sure that Petyr would be able to guess. “Tell us what happened to your aunt.”

“My aunt and Lord Baelish grew up together. Ever since she was a small girl she loved him. Unfortunately, family, duty and her honor kept them apart. Despite her marriage to Lord Arryn and the time that had passed, she still loved him; but she was a troubled woman, a jealous woman. She saw infidelity in every action Lord Baelish did. She was terrified that he didn't love her; that he would leave her for someone else.” Sansa looked down at her hands. “Then, she saw him kiss me.”

“Lady Sansa!”

“It was a peck on the cheek, nothing more.” She could see the doubt in Lord Royce's eyes, in all their eyes. “During my time in King's Landing, Lord Baelish made me a promise that he would bring me home because he once called my mother a friend. He promised to reunite me with my family, and then the Lannisters murdered them at my Uncle's wedding. My home was given to the Boltons and I had nowhere else to go. He became my friend and someone I learned to trust; because despite my family and my home being taken from me, he still brought me to the only family I had left. He became my family.”

“And your aunt? She didn't take kindly to your friendship with Lord Baelish?” One of the other lord's asked. Sansa didn't look to see who. Instead, her gaze was focused on Lord Royce and Lady Waynwood. Sansa felt as though they were the important players. If she could convince them, then both Petyr and she would be safe. Sansa felt the tears begin to fall heavily. She gripped Lady Waynwood's hands.

“She turned on me – cursed me – called me a whore – promised to throw me through the moon door. When Lord Baelish tried to calm her, she struck him. She said she didn't want to live anymore. She stood at the edge of the moon door. He tried to reason with her. Promised that she was the only one he ever loved but she stepped through those doors and she....”

“Shhh, it is not your fault.” Lord Royce stated, pulling her into his arms. For a moment, Sansa was reminded of her father and the fierce embraces he gave his children. She wondered what he would have thought of her, lying to those he respected. Sansa found that it didn't matter because she would never know. “It's not your fault.”

“Oh please!” Sansa started and looked through the few lords that were congregated around them. Corbray appeared agitated and disbelieving, angry that he was unsuccessful in killing Petyr. “She is playing you! She cannot possibly be Sansa Stark! She is being searched for in all Seven Kingdoms and we are to believe that she is standing in front of us? Hiding in the Eyrie and not a single soul knew?”

“This is Sansa Stark. I recognize her and only a Stark would know that I dined at Winterfell when I escorted my son to the Wall.”

“If she is who she claims to be, then we are going to take a word of a murderer?” Sansa appeared confused and everyone else went still. “Or did you forget why Sansa Stark would need to hide? Accused of murdering the king at his own wedding! You said yourself that he tormented you. His family murdered yours at your uncle's wedding, what better revenge than to kill the king at his?!”

“I did not kill King Joffrey. I don't know who did but it was not me, nor was it Lord Tyrion.”

“Doubtful.”

“Ser Corbray!”

“Lady Sansa has been in my protection for months and I will not allow her honor to be disrespected.” Petyr snapped and she could feel the annoyance rolling off of him. All eyes turned to Petyr who seemed to have found his voice, still hoarse but stronger than the whispered words he spoke to her. There was anger in his eyes but Sansa could see something else. Still breathing heavily, he stepped toward Corbray and the rest of the lords straightened their shoulders; unsure of what Petyr was going to do. “As Lady Sansa said, I am Lord Protector of the Vale. You attacked me. By law I have the right to execute you.” The tension in the room was palpable and the lords spoke out at once in protest. Petyr held up his hand and silenced them; the power Petyr had before, was firmly returned to him. “However, I am mourning my wife. Sansa is mourning her aunt. More death isn't something anyone wants right now. Corbray, you can keep your life, but I want you gone from the Eyrie my daybreak.”

“And what of the rest of us?” Lord Nestor Royce asked. Petyr had won. Corbray attacked Petyr before they were able to fully remove Petyr from his position of power. He was the Lord Protector and one of them had attempted to murder him. This was punishable by death. Sansa looked over to Petyr and she could see the calculation behind his grey-green eyes. He planned it this way. She knew that for certain. Petyr would never put himself in a situation that would cause him harm, unless it was necessary.

Sansa's mind flashed to the scar that stretched across his chest. How did he get such an ugly scar? _What had happened to him?_

“You all may stay if you like. Just understand that the Eyrie is under my control until Lord Robin becomes of age. Robin will not be fostered at Runestone. _I_ am his step-father and he will remain with me. He is a sickly boy. He just lost his mother. Surely you cannot be that cold hearted to remove him from his home?”

“Robin was born in King's Landing. The Red Keep is as much his home as the Eyrie. He would adapt well at Runestone.” Yohn Royce stated in his deep voice.

“No.” No one wavered and no one argued with him. “My only request is that you keep Lady Sansa's secret. I pulled her from King's Landing because she was Lysa's family and someone both of us cared for. It would not due for her captors, the Lannisters, to learn of her whereabouts.”

“Lady Stark's secret is safe with us.” Lady Waynwood replied. “Although I do believe that it would be best for us to stay for the time being. You must understand that it would be in all of our best interests for us to help Lord Robin in any way we can.” Petyr nodded in agreement.

“Did you do it?” Sansa's gaze snapped toward Corbray's direction. His eyes were narrowed as he glared at her; as though he was still trying to believe whether or not she was who she claimed to be. His opinion didn't matter in the end for Petyr had banished him from the Eyrie. He would never be there again to question it and the lords would ensure that he kept that silence. “Did you kill the king?”

“I already answer your question.” Looking at Corbray, Sansa could realize why Petyr picked him to rile. He was an easy target, his temper was clearly written on his face for the entire world to see. Sansa could read him and Corbray was nothing more than an easy mark. “I didn't kill him, but I wish I had.”

With that, Corbray was removed from the chamber by a few of the lords. Sansa was certain that he would be getting an ear full.

“My daughter, Myranda, is a year or so younger than you.” Sansa startled and turned to look at Nestor Royce, who had joined her. “She is recently widowed, poor girl. Her husband died during...well, that isn't something for your lady's ears.” Nestor laughed nervously. “Perhaps I should summon for her? Give you some company? I'm sure it would cheer her up as well.”

“That is a splendid idea.” Sansa turned to see Petyr standing by her side, his coat still hanging open but his scar was no longer visible. He had adjusted himself enough to cover it and suddenly Sansa realized that it was something he didn't like other's to see. Yet, despite it being something horrible that happened to him, Sansa found that it made him more human. It made the name Littlefinger, nothing more than a mask. “Bring Myranda to the Eyrie. I am sure she will be most welcome and good company for Lady Sansa.”

Nestor's chest puffed out and exclaimed that he would send a raven right away. Sansa knew that Petyr wouldn't have sent for Myranda without cause. Everything he did, he had a reason for it. He saved her from King's Landing for a reason. He baited Corbray, for a reason. He married Lysa for a reason. He killed Joffrey, for a reason.

He betrayed her father, for a reason. Sansa just never knew what those reasons were.

“Lady Sansa, join me please.” Petyr asked and she smiled. They made their way out of the chamber and when they were out of sight of the lords, Petyr placed his hand on the small of her back. Despite it being through her clothing, Sansa felt as though his hand burned her skin. She found that she didn't want him to remove it. “You did well Sweetling. I must say, for a moment I was concerned that you didn't understand what I wanted you to do.”

“You could have simply told me.”

“Ah, but you are far more intelligent than you give yourself credit for. I knew you would catch on eventually.” He gave her a proud smile and Sansa couldn't help but feel pleased. She wanted to please him. “You played your part well. The lords will never trust me, but they will trust you. That is important. To have the Vale, we need the Lord Declarants. You have them in the palm of your hand.”

“And what of Corbray, I'm assuming you picked him because he was an easy mark? I'm certain you were not the first person to be the target of his wrath. It makes me question why the Lords even considered bringing him at all.” She once again noticed that Petyr appeared far too smug “Unless you orchestrated him being here in the first place?” She was about to demand an answer when she noticed where he was taking her. Petyr opened the door to his solar and held it open for her. Sansa stepped through and heard Petyr bolt the door behind her.

“And Myranda Royce, what plan do you have for her?” Petyr didn't reply but instead sat down behind his desk and leaned back. Sansa huffed in frustration. She strolled toward the desk. “I lied for you. I could have easily told the lords that you pushed Lysa out the moon door but I didn't. I protected you.” He remained silent, searching her. It was a look mixed with lust and curiosity. He was wondering if he could trust her.

“They are all pieces in the game. Your father was a piece, just like the king was. The Lannisters thought you were piece as well but they don't see you the way I do. No, you are far more than a simple piece on the board.” She wanted to be flattered by his assessment but wasn't. She knew what the moment with the lords was a test. He was testing her. He wanted to see what she was made of and if she could play the game. He put his life in her hands just to see what she would do.

“That isn't an answer” Still nothing. Sansa eyes searched him and then she glanced down. In front of her was a scroll with the seal broken. It took only a moment to recognize it. A proud lion. She snatched it from the desk and unrolled it. “What is this?”

“A summons.” Sansa read each word, taking it in. She was about to be alone in the Eyrie without him. Sansa found the thought displeasing. She didn't want him to leave. She had gotten so used to having him by her side, the idea of being alone was far more distressing than she had realized. “It appears that Queen Cersei requires my presence in King's Landing. While I am gone, the Vale is yours.”

“You can't leave me here!”

“And I can't take you with me.” That much was obvious. While Cersei was alive, Sansa would never be able to step foot in King's Landing again; not that she was aching to return. Petyr stepped forward and placed his hands on her the side of her neck. His thumb tracing her creamy white skin, the feel of his warm hand burned her skin. “You have the protection of the High Lords of the Vale. They adore you far more than they tolerate me. You will rule in my place.”

Sansa leaned forward, stepping into his embrace. She placed her hand on his chest, touching the disheveled fabric. This was a far more intimate setting than she had ever been in with a man, and she knew what it appeared to be. If they were caught, the scandal would be one of far higher magnitude than Corbray nearly killing Petyr. She would be branded a whore on top of a bastard in the eyes of the Vale; Sansa found she didn't care anymore. She reached up and placed her hand over the place on his coat that covered the scar that she had seen a brief glimpse of. Her eyes traveled to the light mark on his neck.

“At least it won't scar.”

“If it had, I would have worn it proudly. For you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So we are officially passed the few scenes I was changing form season 4. We will firmly be into changing season five. As you can see, I'm still sending Petyr to KL but there will be a completely different outcome in his absence. As you can see, we are not sending Sans to WF. 
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	3. III: Whispers and Departures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Sorry for the wait. I had the flu and had zero energy to write. I'm hoping to have more of a flow now.

III: Whispers and Departures

“ _You think you know me?”_

“ _I know what you want.”_

“ _Do you?”_

Sansa dreamed of Jon. It was the first time it had happened since she left for King's Landing. If she was honest, she hadn't thought of him at all after he left for the Wall. That is until she came to the Vale. Here, she had begun to understand what it meant to be a bastard. Except the lords declarant, Petyr and herself, everyone thought she was Littlefinger's natural born daughter. Most said it made sense. For Petyr owned brothels, it was bound to come out that he had fathered a child upon one of them. Whether or not her “mother” was a whore was never discussed between Petyr and herself.

Most were kind to her in his presence but Sansa heard the whispers. She heard what they said about her. They wondered if she was as loose as the whores he kept. Some of the knights even tried but it appeared that Sansa was never alone. Petyr had her protected. If any of the men got too close to her, one of Petyr's men would appear. It was comforting. Mya had warned her of how men would treat her. Bastard girls lose their virtue early because there was no point in keeping it. They had no standards to live up to. They were born bastards, it was a part of who they were. Yet, when Petyr was around, those whispers disappeared. She was treated like a lady because it became clear that Petyr adored his daughter.

Even the lords who knew her secret treated her with respect. They never mentioned her real name aloud but it was the way they treated her. They never referred to her as a bastard but instead, when they had to refer to her as the woman she was pretending to be, they would just smile and ask her where her father was. It was not always what Mya said it would be, at least from them. Perhaps it was because she was pretending to be the bastard daughter of a high lord and one that acknowledged her. Yet, there were the brazen men who wanted her and felt that she was easy simply because they knew her to be the bastard daughter of a whoremonger; but Sansa did not worry for Petyr would never allow harm to come to her.

She found that Petyr would stand closer than he had previously but when someone entered the chamber they occupied, it was as though Petyr stepped away. She knew that the high lords were cautious of Petyr and only allowed him the power he had because of Corbray’s actions. Having him attack Petyr solidified his position but it wasn't just his power they were concerned over; it was his attachment to Sansa. Many wondered what their relationship was and why she trusted him.

_Did she trust Petyr?_

She wasn't sure. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to trust him but she knew what he was capable of. He murdered a King for her because she was useful to him. Joffrey was once useful to him too. How long before she ended up the same way? How long before she found herself choking on her own bile because she outlived her use to him. _He wouldn't do that, not to you._

Was she naive to believe that? Was she foolish to want him in such a way? She couldn't help but think of his lips on hers and how much she wanted to feel that again. The only other two men she had kissed where Joffrey and Tyrion. At the time, she thought that Joffrey's lips were everything she had ever wanted. She only kissed Tyrion once and that was on the day of their wedding. He had never kissed her again. Sansa had three kisses in her life time, and each from three different men. She wanted Petyr to be the last and she knew that she was a fool for it.

“Lost in your thoughts?” Sansa jumped, nearly dropping the sewing she was trying to complete. She had locked herself away in her chambers, hoping to avoid Robin. Since his mother had passed, he had begun to cling to Sansa, almost as though he was trying to replace his mother with her; even though he would call her his bride. Lysa had put it in Robin's mind that he was to marry Sansa; something Sansa did not want in the slightest. She could never imagine ever enjoying his lips on hers, not in the way she had enjoyed Petyr's. “I apologize if I have startled you.”

“No. It's alright.” She forced a smile but was unable to meet his eyes. She was nervous. Since Lysa's death, they were rarely alone and now with Petyr due to depart that very afternoon, Sansa found looking at him difficult. Not because she didn't want to but more or less she just didn't know what to say. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him again but they were never alone. The Lords of the Vale were always in her company. She wasn't sure if it was kindness on their part, wanting to keep her safe or if it was a scheme to keep her away from Petyr. Despite the fact that they proclaimed him Lord Protector, none of them trusted him; but they seemingly put their blind trust into her. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Really? All good things I hope.” His tone was smug, as though he was enjoying her thoughts. Sansa tossed him an exasperated glance but couldn't help but smile. She knew where his mind was and she could feel the tingles cascade down her skin. Petyr stepped forward to the point she could feel the heat from his body, but he never touched her.

“I was just contemplating how awful you are. The whores, the schemes and of course, all the blood you have on your hands.” The tension was thick between them. Petyr's face was passive and he said nothing. “Despite all of that, I realized that I would miss you.” Shyly, Sansa looked up and she could see Petyr's intense gaze rested upon her. The friction between them increased and it pulsed. Petyr reached out and took her hand into his. Sansa could feel her hand tingle at the stroke of his thumb.

Petyr moved his hand so that theirs were linked together. Other than the kiss they shared in the snow, this was the most physical contact they have had. Sansa and never felt anything like it. She stepped closer to him, allowing her breath to mingle with his. Their eyes locked and it was as though the rest of the world disappeared. The light wind that always echoed in the Eyrie could no longer be heard. The icy cold air could no longer be felt along her skin. All she could see and feel was Petyr.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Shivers traveled down her spine and his eyes never left hers. She had never seen him give her that look before; the intense desire that was radiating form him in that moment left her speechless. He had gazed at her with longing, enjoyment, mischief and cunning but never this strength of desire. It startled her. She didn't know how to react to it. Never before had a man gazed at her in such a manner. Her father, her real father, had never looked at her own mother in such a way.

_Is this right?_

_Is this wrong?_

_Do I care?_

“Lord Baelish....” She didn't know what else to say. What else was there to say? She didn't want him to pull his lips from her skin. She wanted the contact and she didn't know what she would do if it went away. She never experienced this heat that was pulling in her stomach nor the slickness between her legs. It was so foreign to her that she just couldn't wrap her thoughts around it; and he was leaving within the hour. Never before had she wanted someone to stay with her so badly.

“Call me Petyr.” He stepped forward and placed his hands on the sides of her face; much like he had when they were out in the snow. However, he didn't lean in towards her lips. Instead, he kissed her forehead and Sansa's eyes fluttered shut. His lips moved from her forehead to her eyelids. He kissed each of them and then moved down to her nose. He pressed a kiss her cheekbones on each side while Sansa just waited for Petyr's lips to connect with hers but it never came. She opened her eyes and looked at him in question.

“Petyr?” It was then that Petyr leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't like the kiss that they had shared before. This was deeper. Petyr pressed himself against Sansa and she couldn't help but wrap her arms around his shoulders. She leaned into him and she could feel her breasts being crushed against his chest; causing her nipples to harden. She moaned into his lips as his hands traveled to her hips. She could feel his nails dig into the fabric of her dress. Their kiss turned even more passionate and all thought left her; at least until she heard her false name being called.

“Alayne! Alayne! Alayne!” Petyr and Sansa jumped apart. She whipped her head around and was pleased to see that the door was firmly shut. She glanced over to Petyr, who was seated in a plush chair as far away from her as possible. His legs were crossed and he appeared completely unaffected by what had just occurred. Sansa didn't have time to be appear at his complete obliviousness because her chamber door burst open and Robin came tumbling through. “Alayne!”

Robin stopped and paused. He gripped his chest and began wheezing. He fell into a coughing fit, nearly falling to the ground. Sansa rushed to the young boy and wrapped her arms around him. Ever since she met Robin, she couldn't help but compare him to Bran. Even though Bran was pushed from that tower and lost the ability to walk, he always seemed so much stronger than Robin. Robin always seemed weak and sickly, even though he was the same age as Bran. He was childlike and she knew it had to do with the fact that Lysa treated him like an infant.

Yet, Sansa couldn't help but notice that Robin had been far sicker recently than he had been when Lysa was alive. Granted, death took a toll on the living as well. Most assumed that Robin was taking the death of his mother with extreme difficulty but Sansa felt as though there was something far more sinister at play; a part of her was far too curious as to what it was. Knowing Petyr, it was far worse than she could ever imagine.

“Robin, are you alright?!”

 

“Yes. The wind caught up with me.” Robin gave her a weak smile and linked his hands with hers. The feel of the young boy’s fingers entwined with hers was nothing compared to Petyr's. “Alayne, Lord Royce is going to teach me how to sword fight! Isn't that exciting?!”

“Very! I'm so proud of you!” Sansa placed a false smile on her lips. She thought on how Robin continued to call her Alayne, even when it was just her and him in a room. It was as though he completely believed the lie Petyr had spun about her being his bastard daughter despite knowing the truth. She wasn't sure if it was his clearly weakened state or some delusion that Robin truly wanted her to be Alayne. Either way, Sansa played along.

“Come watch!” Sansa allowed herself to be pulled toward the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder to gaze at Petyr, who hadn't moved from the chair in the corner, his legs were still crossed. She had thought that he would join them but he made no move to follow. She paused, almost causing Robin to jerk back, and looked at Petyr in question. He was to leave soon and she wanted to spend the remainder of his time with him; even if it meant watching Robin fail with the sword.

“Go on. I have something to take care of.” Sansa gave him a curious look but said nothing. “Don't worry. I'll make sure to say my goodbyes.” Robin pulled on her arm again and Sansa obeyed his eager command but kept her eyes on Petyr. “Be sure to close the door behind you.”

Robin pulled Sansa through the Eyrie and towards the door that would lead them down to the courtyard. There were several lords around, including Lord Royce and a few knights. Sansa could see both wooden swords and shields being held by a few knights. None of them looked pleased and Sansa could tell that Lord Royce was forcing them to do this. They all knew Robin would not make a strong knight or lord. Sansa wondered what would happen once Robin reached adulthood. Certainly, he wouldn't do well as Lord Protector of the Vale, even if Petyr mentored him.

Sansa took a seat on one of the wooden benches that were stationed around. Lord Nestor Royce looked at her and gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. A few of the knights looked at the exchange in question. One elbowed another and smirked. They thought her a bastard and clearly thought that she must be in bed with Lord Royce if he was willing to acknowledge her at all. Sansa was surprised at how little the whispers really bothered her. It was only temporary, one day soon she would be able to take back her real name and the rumors would mean nothing.

As she expected, Robin was awful with the sword. At every turn, he failed. Bran wasn't the greatest with the sword or bow, even though he wanted to join the Kingsguard one day, but at least he didn't fall to the ground at every turn. The comparison between Bran and Robin continued in Sansa's mind. The only similarity she could find was that neither boy deserved what happened to them. Bran survived being pushed from that tower only to be murdered by someone he thought was a brother. Robin, well who knows what fate Petyr has in stall for him.

Far sooner than she anticipated, a knight was running towards them and whispered something into Lord Nestor's ear. He nodded and waved his hand, telling them all to wrap up. Sansa's eyes snapped towards Robin and it was clear that he was glad for the training to be done. She was about to stand and assist him but was surprised to see Lord Royce coming toward her.

“Come. Lord Petyr is about to depart.” Nestor held out his arm to her and Sansa smiled gratefully. She linked her arms with his and allowed him to guide her. She could feel the eyes of the knights following her and Nestor, and she knew what they were thinking. “I feel that you will enjoy Myranda; she is close to your age about a year younger I believe. Being here will keep her mind off of some things. She is recently widowed you know.”

Sansa looked at Nestor and could see concern in his eyes. Yet, she could tell that it wasn't over his daughter's dead husband. There was something more. She wanted to pry but held back. Myranda was coming to the Eyrie within a few days and Sansa would have plenty of time to learn the other girls secrets. She wondered what could cause Nestor's concern that he would pull his daughter away from her home.

Yet, Sansa didn't have time to dwell on it. Both Nestor and Sansa reached the edge of the Eyrie before Petyr would be taken down by donkey. Sansa's eyes looked around and she couldn't see Mya at all. She must have left already and Sansa was glad. At least someone would be able to get their happy ending. Her gaze turned and she saw Petyr. The sight of him caused her to grow flushed and she hoped that others would believe it to be because of the cold. Her mind drifted to his lips on hers that occurred only an hour or two prior. Petyr seemed completely unfazed as he stood calmly, discussing something with Lady Waynewood.

“What could those two be discussing, I wonder?” Nestor muttered. He dropped her arm and made his way toward the two. Sansa thought of joining him but she knew that Lady Waynewood would drop the discussion. While all the Lords were kind to her, Lady Waynewood said very little to her at all. Instead, she would gaze at Sansa as though she was measuring her worth. It caused Sansa to feel very self-conscious and wondered if Waynewood could see through her lies.

Her eyes focused back on Petyr and Waynewood. Petyr had his telltale smirk on his lips, clearly pleased with whatever the lady was telling him. It caused Sansa's curiosity to peek and she wanted to know what they were saying. What was he plotting? And did Waynewood believe him? For Sansa thought that Waynewood would be far too intelligent to believe anything he had to say.

Her attention was pulled to Nestor again, who seemed extremely displeased by the conversation. His face had grown red and he narrowed his eyes. However, his anger didn't seem to be directed at Petyr, but rather at Waynewood. It was clear that no one really liked Petyr so Sansa would have expected Nestor to lay whatever blame on Petyr and not a high lady of the Vale; but it appeared that Sansa was wrong. They started to make their way towards Sansa and she noticed that Petyr had placed himself between Waynewood and Nestor. He placed his hand on Nestor's shoulder and began speaking to him. As they drew closer, she could hear what they were discussing.

“I know that the affair between Myranda and Harry is distressing and I know that you had hopes of bringing her here in order to keep her away from Harry but it would be best that Harry is here as well. Lady Waynewood has a point in that regard.” Petyr smiled lightly and turned that he was speaking to him directly. “Her nephew is the heir after Robin and it would be foolish to keep him away and out of such an important secret.”

“Perhaps I should stop Myranda from coming at all.” Nestor replied bitterly.

“Now now, don't do anything hasty.” Petyr's voice dropped low. “Lady Sansa has had some extremely difficult times as of late. It would do her a world of good to have a young girl around her age to befriend. She has had very little people she could trust in her life.” Nestor didn't seem appeased. “You know, Lady Lysa always spoke most highly of you. She valued your loyalty immensely.”

“Truly?”

“Oh yes. Your holdfast was the closest to the Eyrie and she relied heavily on it. As did the late Jon Arryn, or so she told me.” Nestor seemed pleased by this while Waynewood just rolled her eyes and said nothing. “I tell you this. Let Myranda stay at the Eyrie for a few weeks with Sansa at least until I return. Upon my return, I promise I will assist you in finding your daughter a new husband and be kept away from Harry. I give you my word.”

 

“Very well, as long as you keep your word.” Nestor asked and Sansa realized why he wanted to bring Myranda to the Eyrie, to keep her away from some boy named Harry. However, Petyr seemed keen to bring this Harry here and Sansa wondered if it was his idea or Waynewood's.

“I will. Now, I would like to have a few moments to say goodbye to my daughter.” The words were loud and clear. Neither Nestor nor Waynewood could protest for it would seem odd to refuse a father saying goodbye to his daughter.

“Yes, yes, tell her of our plans. It would be best if she knew of them anyway.” Waynewood stated and the two nobles nodded and strolled away. Sansa could hear Nestor berating Waynewood while she simply snapped back at him. Sansa watched as they made their way to the other Lords to the Vale. Petyr placed his hand on the small of her back and led her away.

“Come Sweetling.”

“Your discussion with Waynewood seemed interesting. What were you discussing with her?” Petyr chuckled but didn't answer. “You appeared to like what she had to say.”

“She has custody of her nephew, Harold Hardying. She wants to bring him here.” Sansa gave him a confused look, not understanding why this would please him. “Lord Hardying is the heir to the Eyrie after Robin. If Robin where to pass on, Harry the Heir will take his place as Lord of the Eyrie.” Petyr stepped toward her and took a strand of black hair, pushing it behind her ear. “Lady Waynewood feels that if Harry knew who you were, he would feel inclined to protect you, for he is such the valiant knight.”

“There is no such thing as a valiant knight. What is it? What does he do that causes you not to feel threatened by him?”

“You're far cleverer than your mother.” Sansa felt a rise of pride again. While he continued to compare her to her mother, it appeared that she continued to win. It was as though he found her more desirable than the one woman he proclaimed to love. “Harry as at least two bastard daughters. Despite that, he seems to have the same mentality towards them as most of the high borns do. And he is currently having an affair with Lord Nestor's widowed daughter, Myranda. He seems to be taken with what he assumes are easy woman. That is until he grows bored of them.”

“And you want me to do what? Seduce him? Marry him?” Petyr didn't reply but instead raised his eyebrows at her. “You cannot be serious! In case you've forgotten, I am already married!” Sansa replied in a shocked whisper. She looked around to ensure that no one could hear them. Lord Tyrion flashed in her mind. There was a chance he would be executed for a murder that Petyr committed. She should be saddened about this, for Tyrion had always been kind to her, but she could see the brilliance behind his plan. “That is why you framed him for Joffrey's murder. To make me a widow?”

“Partly. However, that seemed to have failed as Tyrion has seemed to have escaped the clutches of death once again. He, much like you, is currently missing.” This surprised Sansa, for she has heard nothing of this and was still under the impression that Tyrion would be tried for Joffrey's murder. Sansa couldn't help but feel pleased at the news. “Your marriage to Tyrion won't be an issue when you marry Harry.” Sansa found that she didn't want to marry this young knight. She wondered if she ever wanted to marry at all. This Harry sounds like the type of man she would have always wanted to marry but the moment she would have learned of his affairs, and the children created from them, Sansa would never have been able to love him.

“And what if I don't want to marry this Harry, then what?” Petyr smirked at her and Sansa couldn't help but flush again. She knew that he was thinking of their lips locked together and how she allowed his hands to wonder. She wanted to feel that again but not with some boy named Harry. Sansa realized that her desire was for Petyr and not some faceless noble night.

“You will always have a choice. I will never force you into anything you don't want.” He placed his hands on the side of her face but it wasn't like before. There wasn't that burning desire in his eyes that she had seen earlier. This was the mentor who wanted her to grow and learn to play the game. This was the man who pushed Lysa out of the moon door. “Don't you know how much I care for you?”

“Uncle Petyr!” Petyr stepped away from her and Sansa turned to see Robin racing toward them. Petyr bent down and Robin flung himself into his arms. Much like the first time Sansa stepped inside the Eyrie, Petyr spun the young boy around. For a moment, Sansa could almost believe that Petyr cared for the boy. He treated him like a son. “I'm going to miss you! Please hurry back.”

“I'm never gone for too long. You know that.”

“And will you come back with a gift?!”

“Don't I always?” Robin nodded with enthusiasm and once again Sansa was reminded how young he was. He seemed like a small child who was begging for sweets and not the young man he should be becoming. “Now, while I am gone you must promise to continue with your medicine. Doesn't it make you feel better?” Robin nodded excitedly in agreement.

“Medicine?” Sansa asked. She didn't know that Robin had been taking anything and whatever it was didn't appear to be helping him. If anything, it was making him worse. Healthy boys didn't fall into coughing fits or suffer from the fatigue that Robin seemed to show. It could be grief, she reasoned with herself but Sansa felt that she knew better. She felt that she knew Petyr better.

“Yes. Uncle Petyr had the maester give me something to make the shaking stop.” He seemed so sure of it that it almost made Sansa feel sorry for him. She knew that Robin trusted Petyr with everything and would have no reason to suspect him of anything untoward; but Sansa knew he killed one young boy before. She watched him die right before her eyes. “It really helps.”

“Does the tea make it taste better?” Petyr asked and Robin nodded. “See, I told you that it would take away the bitter taste.” Petyr leaned in and kissed the top of Robin's head. He gave the boy an affectionate smile that Robin eagerly returned. “Now, I need you to do something for me while I am gone. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes!”

“Perfect.” Petyr's eyes flickered toward Sansa again. “I need you to keep an eye on Alayne. Stay close to her and do as she says okay. Most importantly. Trust no one but her. Do you understand me?” Robin agreed with most enthusiasm. He looked toward Sansa with doe eyes and she realized that the reason why he clung to Alayne so forcefully; he was infatuated. “Now, run along. I will be back before you know it.”

Robin ran quickly from Petyr and towards the other lords. Petyr straightened and looked directly at Sansa. His smirk played on his lips as though his scheme were on its tips. He wanted to tell her but he would refrain. Sansa knew that he preferred for her to guess and to use her mind. He liked to challenge her and shape her into his own image. She wouldn't lie and say that she didn't enjoy it. No one else had even attempted to nurture that part of her. Her own family only saw her beauty and nothing deeper.

Petyr saw it in her the moment he had met her.

“I didn't realize that Robin was taking medicine.” Sansa replied and he chuckled. He cocked his head and Sansa knew that she was right. Robin wasn't taking medicine at all. He was ill because Petyr wanted him to be so. It would also make sense as to why he would want Robin's heir at the Eyrie. And why he would want her to marry him. The plan was simple. All the while, still keeping Petyr in control of the Vale.

“He was anxious. His mother's death only caused him to be more nervous. I consulted with the maester and he provided a serum that would sooth him.” Petyr could hardly control his smile. “Robin has himself proclaimed to be feeling much better.” Except his weakened state. Even as he swung that sword he suffered and Sansa felt guilty for comparing him to Bran. Bran didn't have someone actively trying to keep him weak while he was learning to defend himself.

“Such a concerned father.” Her tone was sarcastic but only he could tell. Nothing else would be able to be said aloud for there were prying ears. More people were coming to see him off and none of them wanted him back. Outside of Sansa and Robin, no one enjoyed Petyr's company. They needed him and if that was not the case, they all would be glad to see the back of him.

“As you would know, my darling daughter.” His eyes flickered over her and she pulled her cloak tighter around her. She could only hope that the others thought she was cold but Petyr knew that truth. She couldn't help but wish that she could step forward and kiss him goodbye as a wife would her husband. However, Sansa didn't have the luxury, for her husband was gone and she felt that she would never see him again. It wasn't that she hated Tyrion but she didn't desire him or love him.

_Do I love Petyr? Does he love me?_

_He couldn't,_ Sansa rationed with herself. Petyr had confessed only a few weeks ago that he had only loved her mother; but it was clear that he desired her. He wanted her and Sansa knew that she returned that feeling. She had thought that she was attracted to Joffrey but the dead king never once affected her the way Petyr had. In the back of her mind, she knew that while he was the first man who affected her so, she was not the first woman to be swayed by him. Lysa had loved his with all her heart and he killed her.

Sansa couldn't help but wonder if that was her fate. He promised that she was more to him than just some piece and that whatever move he made in the game, he would never harm her. He had to have made the same promise to Lysa for her aunt could not have been that big of a fool to follow him blindly; she would have had to have needed some kind of reassurance.

_Wouldn't she?_

How had that romance blossomed anyway? She knew that he once loved her mother but how did Lysa fit in to all of that? What occurred that would have pushed Petyr from her mother to Lysa? It just didn't make any sense to Sansa. If he loved her mother at all, why fall into bed with her sister? She had asked Petyr about his relationship with Lysa and he had given her a vague reply. He didn't want to answer her or speak of it. The only logical explanation had to have been something drastically horrific.

As if on instinct, Sansa's mind flashed toward the scar on his chest and how he covered it up quickly after Corbray attacked him. Did he detest the scar for the simple fact that it was ugly or was there more to do with the story behind it? Were they connected? Was whatever caused that scar the reason he was pushed towards Lysa? Did her mother cause that scar or was at least the reason for it? Perhaps they were unconnected and neither Lysa nor her mother had any connection to it at all.

_But how many secrets could Petyr possibly have?_

Sansa answered her own question. Many.

“You promised me something and have yet to keep it.” Sansa whispered out and Petyr cocked his head. She knew that all the promises he had ever made was running through his head and wondering which one she had yet to collect on. She gave him a moment before the realization lit up his eyes but he said nothing and she knew he wouldn't. It was something he clearly didn't want to speak of and would only do so if forced. “You promised me a story. One about you. One about Lysa and yet I still know nothing of that affair.”

“I had hoped you would have forgotten about that.” Which was why he said nothing about the subject again. He didn't want to speak of it and Sansa could tell that it wasn't about her. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her but more of the fact that he never wanted to speak of it again; to anyone. “But if you had, you wouldn't be my Sweetling, would you?”

Sansa shook her head. She knew he wanted to say, 'his Sansa' but couldn't. To anyone else, it was a daughter asking to learn how her father fell in love with the lady of the Vale. It would make sense after such a loss. It was a tragic story and one that fools would sing of. It would fit in perfectly, Sansa thought. For fools only sang tales of lies; there were not strand of truth in them. The story of Petyr and Lysa would be one of love and tragic loss. Not one of betrayal and murder.

“I don't forget things easily. Something like that would stick out in my mind.” In truth, she had forgotten. With the lords coming and them learning of her real identity, it was easy to allow it to slip her mind. She would have confronted him about it far sooner than she had. She wouldn't have waited until he was about to leave the Eyrie for a few weeks. By the look Petyr was giving her, he knew that she had forgotten as well.

“Your memory, and your mind are some of the many things about you that I adore. It is a mystery where you had gotten it from because it certainly didn't belong your mother; or your father.” She laughed at that and Petyr gave her an indulgent smile. “I promise you that when I return. I will tell you anything you want to know.”

A knight called out and motioned for Petyr. It was time for him to depart and Sansa felt her heart wrench. It wasn't the worse heartbreak she had suffered, at least she knew he would return; at least she had hoped. She had hoped that Joffrey would pardon her father, and he hadn't. She had hoped that Robb would win the war that would save her from King's Landing, and he hadn't. She wondered if this would be the last time she saw Petyr; for she was starting to realize that goodbye meant forever.

“I suppose that I'll have to make a list then.” Petyr laughed loudly at that and smiled. This time, it was a true smile and perhaps the first one Sansa had seen. But the moment was fleeting. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. He pulled her closer and then kissed her forehead. She was surprised at the contact. She had assumed that with the lords watching them, he would refrain. Although, she supposed that he could have told them that he cared for her as a daughter.

“I suppose you will.” He muttered against her forehead. When he broke away, he placed his hand on the side of her head and looked directly into her eyes. “When I return, you will have Harry by your side. Get to know him. Enchant him. Make him yours.” With that, Petyr turned away from her and made his way towards the guards that would be escorting him down the mountain and to the base of the Eyrie.

Sansa watched him until he was no longer in sight. She stood in place as she looked at nothing that the spot Petyr had once stood at. The lords and left and the rest had departed as well, heading back inside the castle. Sansa stood there alone, not knowing how she was going to be able to function without Petyr by her side. She had never really been alone before. At Winterfell, she had her family and even in King's Landing she had Tyrion and Petyr. She jumped slightly when she felt a hand slip into hers. She looked down and saw Robin beside her. He looked almost as lost as she did.

“Don't worry Alayne. He always comes back, and usually with presents!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think? I feel that this chapter gives more of an idea of where I plan on taking this story. 
> 
> Let me know!


	4. IV: High Sparrow

Eyrie: High Sparrow

_All sinners are equal before the Gods_

The party that was carrying Harry and Myranda was supposed to arrive three days after Petyr's departure.

They didn't arrive on time. Sansa was told that Lord Harold Hardying felt that it wasn't enough time for him to prepare. Yet, Sansa wasn't a fool. Harry had been told, via raven, that he was to marry Alayne Stone, bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish. It was clear that it didn't sit well with him and he felt that he deserved someone of higher birth. The thought caused Sansa to grind her teeth. He would be lucky to have her at all and just by the fact that he was delaying dozens of people for the simple fact that he didn't want to meet her, did not sit well with Sansa.

Three days turned into three weeks, on the same day Sansa learned that Petyr arrived in King's Landing safely, Sansa heard the news that Harry's party was arriving at the gates. There were several knights, lords and ladies that came with them. The news gave Sansa at least an hour to prepare. She checked with the servants to ensure everything was in order and conversed with the lords as well. She was transforming herself into the Lady of the Vale during those three weeks and she was sure that Petyr would be proud.

Waynwood assisted her. It seemed that she had taken a special interest in Sansa and wanted to teach her everything she knew. Waynwood wanted her to succeed in this task. She made Sansa know how to run a home in the most efficient manner possible. Sansa remembered watching her mother run Winterfell and thought it was simple and easy; for she had made it seem so. However, Waynwood proved her wrong. Every night, Sansa felt exhausted and would fall into her bed; falling asleep almost instantly.

She was grateful for the distraction. If she was left to her own devises Sansa knew that she would either obsess about Harry's and Myranda's visits while moping that Petyr had left her at the Eyrie alone. Neither were productive. Waynwood must have realized this, or at least the idea of being nervous for Harry's visits. For she described her nephew in great detail, telling Sansa everything she needed to know about the young man.

It seemed odd at first but she quickly realized that Waynwood wanted the match between Sansa and Harry. She felt that Sansa would be a good match for the heir and if Sansa was ever able to regain the North, then Harry and Waynwood by extension would be powerful. It made Sansa realize that when she spotted Petyr speaking with the older woman, they were making an arrangement for their engagement. Neither Harry nor Sansa would have any say in it.

Sansa wondered if Harry would know the truth, Petyr said that they planned on telling him. It was clear that he wasn't pleased with the idea of marrying a bastard but would he change his mind knowing that she was Sansa Stark? It would be much easier to make him fall in love with her if he knew the truth. What was the point in making him love her anyway, if their engagement was set in stone?

“Come child! Stop dawdling. They are coming up the mountain.” Waynwood stated and linked arms with Sansa. “Now, my nephew does not know who you are yet. As you know, he was less than pleased to learn of your engagement but he will come around the moment he knows the truth.” They made their way out front of the castle entrance and Sansa found herself standing in the exact spot she had been at, merely three weeks ago. She felt the dread sinking in her stomach each time.

“You make it sound like it is certain that he will like me, he already hates me. A different name won't change that.” Waynwood turned and the older woman placed her hands on her shoulders. She took a strand of her raven colored hair and pushed it behind her ear.

“There is something dark about you girl. Something harsh.” Waynwood looked into Sansa's ice blue eyes and smiled. “Some would assume it was because of the abuse you suffered in King's Landing. The things that boy king did to you. The things you've told me, well, it is enough to break anyone and yet here you are, still standing; but it isn't that. No, you have the North in you. That cold harshness could only come from the North. You're exactly the kind of woman my nephew needs in order to whip him into shape.”

Sansa wasn't able to respond, for their guests had arrived. First came a few knights and a few lords. There was one giggling girl and by the fact that Lord Nestor quickly went to her side made Sansa conclude that she was Myranda Royce. She was smaller than Sansa anticipated but had a very developed body. She was curvy but not overweight and had long brown hair. She almost reminded Sansa of Arya and what she might have looked like once she had gotten older and outgrew her youth. Lord Nestor linked arms with his daughter and brought her towards Sansa.

“Myranda, this is Alayne. Lord Baelish's daughter. Alayne, this is my daughter.” Sansa shoved all of her pride aside and forced a smile. She lowered her legs and fell into curtsy. In reality, Sansa was of a higher station than Myranda but she was playing the part of a bastard and was forced to do things that Sansa had once deemed below her. Becoming Alayne was humbling to say the least.

“It is pleasant to meet you, Lady Myranda. I've heard many great things about you.” Sansa decided to be kind, despite the fact that she knew that this woman knew her fiance intimately. However, Myranda didn't seem completely pleased to meet her. If she was sleeping with Harry and here was this bastard girl, Sansa supposed she would be angry too.

“This is the girl that Harry is to marry? Well, at least she is pretty.” Her voice was a high pitched and it hurt Sansa ears. There was a vapid and shallow tone to her and Sansa could tell that she was not going to get along with Myranda at all. However, Sansa had the Lord Declarants wrapped around her finger and she intended to keep it that way. If she had to pretend to be friends with this girl, then she would do it.

“Myranda!” Nestor snapped at her. Sansa scowled at Myranda and didn't hide her displeasure. She didn't need Myranda to like her and in reality, she didn't need Harry either even if it would be easier to have him eating out of her hand. She had the Lords of the Vale. “You will show Alayne all the respect a respectable lady deserves.”

“Speaking of my nephew, where is he?” Waynwood asked and she didn't need an answer; for a very attractive man stepped out of the carriage. He was tall with wide shoulders. His hair was the purest blond she had ever seen. His eyes were a clear blue and Sansa could tell that by the way he carried himself, he knew he was attractive. She could see dimples on his cheeks that made his smile light up the room. Before, Sansa would have been overjoyed at the thought of being tied to this man, but now she knew better. She knew of his bastards and his appeal was slim to her. She needed him, but that did not mean she wanted him. “Harry, there you are.”

“Aunt Anya.” Harry greeted her with a gentle smile but Alayne knew it wasn't for her. Waynwood was standing directly in front of a window and Harry was smiling at his reflection. Clearly, he was more in love with himself than he cared for the woman who all but raised him. Waynwood wasn't a fool in any regard and must know how her nephew's narcissism. “It has been too long.”

“Certainly.” Her tone told Sansa that she didn't believe him at all. “The lords and myself will be meeting in about an hour. I expect you to be there.”

“Perhaps next time Aunt Anya. It was a long journey and I feel that I am in the need of some rest.” Myranda gave a slight giggle and Sansa could tell that neither of them would really be resting after their journey. It nauseated Sansa that both of them would blatantly flaunt their affair in front of their guardians. Surely they had more respect than that for their elders but their current display only confirmed that they did not.

“Yes well, when you feel you have settled in, I expect you to join the lords in their discussions.” Her voice was firm but Sansa could tell that it would be several days, if not a full week before Harry even attempted to take any responsibility, if he did at all. He was the heir to the entire Vale but it seemed that he would rather spend his time in bed with a willing woman than actually putting forth the effort to being a good man and leader. Petyr on the other hand, was by no means a good man, but he proved to be a most efficient leader if it suited him.

“I wouldn't hold your breath on it Lady Waynwood, for it appears that he will be far too occupied to actually care about his birth right.” Sansa added in a tone that suggested utter disappointment. Her eyes traveled the length of Harry and her expression clearly showed that she found nothing about him pleasing. He seemed surprised for he never received that reaction from a woman before.

“Harry, may I introduce Alayne Stone.” She didn't curtsy. Not for him and it was clear that he expected her to do so.

“Ah, Littlefinger's bastard. At least you're pretty. I was concerned you'd look like him.” His tone showed her that he didn't want her either but Sansa knew that. He pushed back his travels just to avoid her.

“Yes. Petyr Baelish is my father. Much like you are to your two little girls. I wonder if I shall meet them. Be sure that I would be far more kind to them when I make their acquaintance than their father was to me.” Harry wanted to make a retort but Sansa turned, blocking him from view. “Pardon me Lady Waynwood, for Littlefinger's bastard has much work to do. Lord Hardying, when you decide to take your position seriously, come find me. Until then, continue playing as the little boy that you clearly still are.”

Sansa turned her back and made her way back into the castle. She could feel his eyes on her back, glaring at her. It was clear that he had never been rejected before and not only that, but he was rejected by a bastard. She knew that it would make him curious about her. She needed him to want her. The only thing was, she didn't want him.

Sansa could only hope that Petyr was having a better time in King's Landing.

Only, he wasn't.

King's Landing was hot and smelled like shit. He had loved it the first time he had stepped foot in here , many years ago. He had made his way into his wealth. He had purchased every single brothel he could find and bought more men and woman, making them use their bodies to bring him wealth. He had never once felt guilty for doing so. In fact, he enjoyed them.

Now however, those brothels were gone. During Petyr's absence from King's Landing, the Faith Militant seems to have gained control of the city; through Cersei's ingenious work. He had always known that she wasn't as intelligent as she liked to pretend she is, but this was beyond foolish even for her. Petyr knew that he was not going to be welcome among most of the faith and thus he would have to make his visit short; not that he had planned on staying long. He knew the conditions of the city long before Cersei had summoned him. Petyr ensured his protection, for he never would have left if he hadn't planned for his death and how to avoid it; or without knowing Sansa's complete safety. She was too valuable to lose now.

It became painfully obvious that he would no longer be welcomed in the city and that Cersei no longer held any sort of power; something Petyr could tell she wasn't willing to admit. As he leaned back in his wooden chair, he watched as the lioness paced back and forth. Her long blonde hair bounced around her hips and her arms were crossed over her chest as her teeth bit at her nails.

“If things would become uncontrollable, I need to know that I can count on my allies.” Cersei stated in a stiff tone. “Lord Baelish, I understand that Lord Robin relies heavily on your council. Can I trust that I will have the Vale army at my disposal? Now that your new wife has mysteriously died? Lysa Arryn, a thoroughly replant woman.” Cersei paused and smirked at Petyr. “Forgive me, you're still in mourning.”

“Lysa was a good woman. A kind woman.”

“She was neither. We both know it however, I pity her son. Fortunately, he has a new father to guide him. If war comes to Westeroes, will the Vale fight for their king?”

“The Knights of the Vale will fight for their Queen.” Petyr smiled at Cersei. He could see that she seemed pleased with his answer. She could never stop viewing herself as the Queen. She was never willing to give that title to Margaery. Yet, Petyr had stopped viewing Cersei as queen long before he held that dagger to Ned Stark's throat.

“And what of the North, Lord Bolton?”

Both Cersei and Petyr turned toward the man who sat on Petyr's right. He wasn't surprised to learn that he was not the only high lord that Cersei summoned. She had an alliance with the Boltons, ever since they had murdered Catelyn and Robb at what was now called the Red Wedding. Petyr remembered hearing the news of Catelyn's death and he would be lying if he said it didn't wound him. His love for Catelyn faded when she never answered his letter all those years ago but she was his first and it hurt. While he had never really known Lord Bolton, Roose has now become someone Petyr could not trust; ever. However, that does not mean that Petyr would be above making a temporary alliance with him, especially if it suited him in the long run. This alliance would not be mutually exclusive however. It would benefit Petyr and Petyr alone.

“The North will do as the throne commands.” Roose gave Cersei a cold smile and Petyr could only imagine that it was a similar look he had given Catelyn before he arranged for her death. It wasn't just the fact that he was the reason that Sansa felt as much pain as she did. Cersei wasn't the only villain in the room who wronged Sansa. In fact, all three of them had. Yet, Petyr was going to redeem himself in her eyes, especially since she was now a valuable asset. At least, that is what he told himself.

“Very well. That is, if Winterfell is still standing once you return. Leaving that bastard of yours in charge, was not very wise.” Cersei snapped and Petyr couldn't help but disagree. He knew everything that there was to know about Roose and Ramsay Bolton, especially Ramsay's quirks and what he had done to Theon Greyjoy. “How have you gotten the Northern Lords to obey you?”

“Fear; something you can fully understand.” Petyr remained silent. Fear worked for a time but it would only cause their downfall as well. “Although, it would be easier if you still had either Stark girl in your care. Marrying Ramsay to either one would strengthen my claim as Warden.” Petyr raised his eyebrow. Petyr had thought that Roose would name any child he had with the Frey girl he married as heir but it appears that he planned on naming the bastard as his heir. It was rather surprising, even though Petyr knew that Roose had legitimized Ramsay.

“Even if I knew where that traitorous bitch was, you wouldn't be able to marry her; for she married Tyrion. I wouldn't be surprised if they were fleeing together.” Cersei bit out. Her eyes narrowed at Roose. He knew that Sansa and Tyrion's marriage was going to be a problem; he had thought of proposing to Cersei about convincing her son to annul the marriage between them, seeing that his plan to make Sansa a widow failed but it was clear that Cersei no longer held that power.

“And what of the younger one? Arya Stark?”

"She hasn't been seen for years. She is most likely dead.” Cersei replied and Petyr said nothing. He knew that Arya was alive, even if her whereabouts were currently unknown to him. He knew he wasn't going to tell Cersei that Sansa's younger sister had been her father's cupbearer for a short time; her real identity unknown to him completely. Arya was a survivor and Petyr would wager almost anything, betting that she was alive.

“Pity. She could have been useful.”

“Perhaps there is another solution.” Both Cersei and Roose turned to Petyr. “Well, like you said your grace, Arya stark has been missing for years. No one has seen her. She would have grown into a young woman. Her features would have changed. There is a chance that no one would recognize her, even those who knew her as a small child.” Cersei seemed confused but Roose just raised an eyebrow at Petyr.

“Are you suggesting I marry my son to an imposter? One that claims to be Arya?” Petyr nodded his “It would be a very clever deception. If we kept Ramsay's bride locked away and only allowed a few people to glimpse her, I suppose it could work. Blood isn't important as long as I have the Stark name.”

“You're a wicked creature Lord Baelish. I suppose you have a bride in mind?” Cersei asked.

“I do.” He turned away and looked at Roose again. “Travel to the Vale with me once we depart King's Landing. I think I have someone in mind that Ramsay would enjoy.” _Two birds. One stone._ Petyr thought. He liked solving multiple problems with one solution. He needed Roose to trust him and he needed Harry the Heir's attention focused upon Sansa.

“And what would you want in return?” Roose asked. What Petyr truly wanted was something that Roose would not give, and Petyr was far too intelligent to ask him for it. Instead, he would leave a vague promise on something he would never collect on. He needed this marriage to take place for many reasons, he always needed Roose to believe that he would gain from it as well.

“Just assurance that if the Vale would ever need the North's assistance, that we would have it.” Roose gave a deep nod but Petyr could tell that Roose didn't fully believe him. Roose may have been cruel and have even fewer morals than Petyr himself but he was far more intelligent than most people realized. Petyr signed death warrants without the blink of an eye but it was rare that he got blood on his own hands; Lysa not withstanding.

“Yes, make your deals. Just be sure that allegiance is to the throne first.” Cersei snapped back, drawing their attention back towards her. “When I summon you, bring your armies. You're dismissed.” Both Roose and Petyr stood; bowing to their queen before making their way out of the chamber. They walked in silence for a moment, before Roose turned to Petyr.

“When do you plan on riding out? I will have my men follow. The Vale is on the path to the North so it won't be much inconvenience.” For him. Being in the same room with Roose was something Petyr considered an inconvenience; not to mention traveling at least three weeks with him to the Vale is something else entirely. He would of course use every moment to his advantage. Petyr learned that when people let their guard down, that was when he learned the most valuable information. For someone to let their guard down, he would have to spend enough time with them.

“I will be leaving at first light. I have a few things to do in the city. Old business and such.”

“Ah yes; the famous brothels. Although, news has it not that there isn't much left of them.” Roose chuckled and tilted his head. “And the city isn't safe for a men like you and I. These religious fanatics are sure to be out for sinners blood.”

“I can assure you that I will be perfectly safe.” With that, Petyr nodded and departed. He made his way into the city, knowing that he was being followed. He was curious what would happen if he indeed did go to one of his previous establishments. He was no longer receiving an income from them anymore but Petyr was a frugal man; he had put enough away to survive several lives times over. Would those fanatics take him and drag him to the High Sparrow if he went there at all?

Probably.

Pity that he was going there himself. He needed to speak to the power in this city and Cersei was no longer that person. Instead, he needed to go to the person who had the power and that meant that he would have to step foot in the one place that he hadn't seen in years.

The Sept of Baelor.

The last time he had been in the sept was the day Ned Stark had lost his head. Before then, it was not a place he frequented. Petyr was not a religious man. Never had been; even in the years that he had lived at Riverrun. Prayer seemed a frivolous waste of time. The gods, if they even existed, would not answer his prayers. When Brandon Stark nearly killed him, his disbelief in their existence was confirmed. What sort of gods would allow one of their children to lie dying, when standing up for everything they proclaimed to be a virtue.

“When a man like you steps through holy doors, they are either liars or seeking redemption. Tell me Lord Baelish, which are you?” Petyr turned and saw an older man strolling towards him. He was wearing nothing but a sack, no shoes and hair that was completely unkept. This man was everything that Petyr was not, virtuous and all but he could see intelligence receding behind his eyes; and intelligence was something Petyr could respect.

“Perhaps I should let you decide.” The High Sparrow's eyes traced over him, taking him in inch by inch. Petyr knew that most would feel uncomfortable by the man's gaze but Petyr took this moment to really study the man. Sometimes, when one was being studied; they never took the moment to asset their opponent. This was something Petyr never took for granted.

“I was like you once. I liked finery, ale, wine, and women. I would do anything to get it.” The High Sparrow took another step forward until he was standing directly in front of Petyr. “My father was a cobbler. He died when I was young and I took over his shop. He was a simple man and made simple shoes. Your father was a simple man, wasn't he?”

“My father was a lowly lord from the Fingers, but you knew this already.”

“I did.” The High Sparrow smiled at him. “I found that the more work I put into my shoes, the more people wanted them. Fine leather, detailing, and time. Time most of all. Dozens of hours put into a single shoe. This is something I can respect about you Lord Baelish. You understand what hard work truly means.” The older man stepped around Petyr and Petyr remained silent. The more the High Sparrow spoke, the more he could gage about this man. “The high born like to cover their feet with my time. I used their money to buy a taste of their life for myself; which you have also done. Each time I indulge, I felt myself ascend to something better.”

“I know men like you. I've catered to many of them.”

“That you have; and I've torn those men down.” That Petyr believed, for he had seen it. “I had a feast once, many years ago. I paid for the finest food, the best wine and pretty girls. I invited my friends to share it all. We passed around the wine, passed around the women and soon we fell into a stupor. I woke before dawn, I could barely stand. Everyone else was asleep, lying in heaps next their fine clothes. The truth of their bodies laid bare. I could smell them, beneath the incense and perfume and fine food that already started to turn. I saw them with perfect clarity.”

“And you repented. You turned to the seven.” Petyr had seen it many of times. It was a story that he had seen first hand. However, what he could see now, was not a holy man. This man was nothing more than a liar; a manipulator. He had found his platform, once he could capitalize on and he used it. It was something that Petyr could understand perfectly. If Petyr was one side of a gold dragon, the High Sparrow was the other. “You found redemption.”

“Yes but I fear that it is something that you will never feel.” He chuckled. “No. I can see that, while you supplied and fed the desires of man, you never really participated. Sin was nothing more than a business for you, but you're not one who falls into their wants. If you tried, you would make a great holy man.”

“What can I say? We both pedal fantasies, mine just happen to be entertaining.” This caused the High Sparrow to laugh, hard. It was almost as though he enjoyed the conversation with Petyr because he rarely had such a challenge and because of that he knew Petyr wasn't out to ruin him. He was surrounded by men who wanted to bring him down from the new found power he had, but it was clear that Petyr had no desire to do so.

“I could force you. I could lock you in a cell and force you to know the Seven.” It was a threat and one that the High Sparrow would carry out only if he was a fool. However, Petyr could see that this man was anything but. “I don't think that would be wise. Tell me, who controls the Vale in your absence?”

“My daughter Alayne.”

“Your daughter?”

“The only person who actually matters to me.” It was the truth. Alayne may not have been whom everyone assumed her to be, but she was the only one who he cared for. Petyr wanted to believe that, if he did not return, Sansa would send someone to look for him. She would send the Knights of the Vale and they would bring this city to the ground. Even if Sansa used his kidnapping as an excuse to seek her revenge on Cersei, Petyr would take it.

“Then what do you want, Lord Baelish?” The High Sparrow could see the folly in taking Petyr. He may have convinced Cersei to allow his radicals control the city, but he couldn't continue to control it if another kingdom sought war upon it. Instead, he would be forced to let Petyr walk free.

“An annulment.”

“Excuse me? I hadn't realized that you were married.”

“The annulment would not be for me.” Petyr paused and he could tell that the Sparrow's interest was peaked. “King Joffrey was murdered at his own wedding. His brother then marryied _his_ bride. Yet, the murders have run free. Tell me, has there been any word about Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa's whereabouts?” The Sparrow said nothing. “No. There hasn't been. There is a chance that they are together. Their union threatens the throne.”

“Why should you care if the king slayers are living happily ever after?” He wanted to chuckle but the Sparrow would be able to see that Petyr knew the truth of where Tyrion and Sansa were. He wouldn't be able to proclaim perfect knowledge of Tyrion, but Sansa...well he would give himself up before betraying her. “What could you possibly gain from me convincing the King to annul their marriage? That is what you want, isn't it? For their marriage to come to an end?”

“Tommen is of a feeble mind. He is weak and easily swayed. He listens to power. If Cersei whispered in his ear to end their marriage, Queen Margaery would fight against it, simply because Cersei wanted it. You, however, have more power than the dowager Queen. The king might listen to you.” Petyr began. “Allowing the marriage between Tyrion and Sansa to continue, would cause a power struggle later. Tyrion is intelligent and Sansa, well they say she wants nothing but revenge for what happened to her family. Tyrion is willing to do anything for her. Ending their marriage now could eliminate that power.”

“You speak as though you know exactly what they are thinking. Where are they?” Petyr remained silent. Denying such knowledge would only confirm that Petyr knew where both Sansa and Tyrion were. Staying silent was the much safer option. “And why would you want that marriage to end anyway? Unless you had some pressing need?”

“Perhaps I am just a concerned member of the small council. I was master of coin for years and it would be a pity to see the city that I worked so hard to build come crashing down.” Petyr stated and the High Sparrow just looked at him. He was sizing him up. It was clear that neither of them believed that statement. It was an obvious lie but one that told the Sparrow that he didn't want to answer him. Petyr didn't want to try and lie to him because the best way to play him was to manipulate him with honesty; or at least with versions of the truth.

The only outright lie Petyr has said to him was that he had a daughter named Alayne.

“Keep your secrets. I'm sure you have many.” The Sparrow replied and Petyr tossed him his signature Littlefinger smirk. “If I do annul the marriage between Lord Tyrion and Sansa Stark, what should I receive out of it?”

“Are you stating that you would need a bribe, a payment instead of doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Sarcasm won't achieve your goal Lord Baelish.”

“Very well.” Petyr cocked his head and smiled. “There is a young man in my employ-”

“If you think you can buy me like one of your customers-”

“Who had a special relationship with Ser Loras, the Queen's brother.” That got the Sparrow to pause. “You need a way into the royal family, do you not? What is the point of all this, gaining the control of the King?” Sparrow didn't answer, much like Petyr had previously. “Surely you don't expect me to believe this story of yours, waking after a night of debauchery to realize you've found the Seven? No. You want power because you're like every other man out there.”

“Lets say what you say is true, how would this man of yours gain me access to the King?” Petyr had the Sparrow in that moment and they both knew it. If Petyr could deliver, then Sansa and Tyrion's marriage would be annulled before he reached the Vale.

“The easiest way to get to a man is to know what he loves. Tommen loves his young bride more than anything. The best way to get to him is to his bride.” Petyr moved around the Sparrow and looked around the Sept. It was beautifully decorated and was nothing like what the Seven preached. He had read the Seven Pointed Starr once because a client had a particular fantasy. However, he never took any stock into what he was saying. “The last time I was here was when King Joffrey took Ned Stark's head. I cannot blame Sansa Stark for wanting revenge.”

“Yes. A sad day certainly. I had admired Eddard Stark, but everyone had. Except those who held a knife to his throat.” That indiscretion had followed him. In truth he had thought that Joffrey would pardon the man and send him to the wall. Petyr would have enjoyed knowing that Catelyn suffered, with her husband being forced into being celibate. His death suited him fine too, with the exception that it had caused Sansa pain. “What does Sansa Stark's thirst for revenge have to do with wining the King's power?”

“Nothing. Just making an observation.”

“Then let us not waste time. From what I hear, you have to leave the city, do you not?”

“Very well. To win the King, you must control the Queen.” Petyr looked at the Sparrow with a proud smile. “Queen Margaery loves her family above all. The boy who was in my employ had an intimate relationship with her brother. I'm sure he would be more than useful to you.”

“He laid with him?”

“Several times. He knows more knowledge about the Tyrell family than most. Apparently Loras liked to talk once he was spent.” The Sparrow didn't seem surprised or even disturbed. Other Setpons always seemed offended with the idea of two men sharing a bed. However, the High Sparrow didn't seem to care, as long as it would get him what he needed. “I'm sure that Olyvar would be more than willing to tell you anything you need to know.”

“Meaning you would pay him.” Petyr only responded with a potent look. “It is a curious thing, finding the way into a man's heart. You say that men, and women, would do anything for those they care about. You said earlier that your daughter, what was her name, Alayne? You said that she was the one person who meant the world to you. Tell me, Lord Baelish, what would you do if someone harmed her, in the way you're planning on selling out Margaery Tyrell? I'm sure you realize that the Queen's fate is not going to be easy for the next several weeks.”

“If anyone would ever touch a single strand of hair on Alayne's head, there would be no force in Westeroes or beyond that would stop me. I would burn every man, woman and child that hid the person who harmed her. Then the fate that would wait those who harmed her, well, it would make Ramsay Bolton shudder.” It was a warning. Come after her and Petyr would end them all. He would burn the Kingdom to the ground and stand on the ashes as King.

“Bring me this boy and then I will give you what you want. Then, I hope to never see you in this city again.” Petyr nodded. If he was never to see the High Sparrow again, he would be pleased. But for now, he was needed. Petyr was used to making deals with those he could not stand, And he had something Petyr wanted. He had spent months with Ned Stark, trying to make him see reason, yet he never did. He was a bad investment.

“Oh I am sure that I will be back, one day. Whether we meet or not, well that is yet to be seen.” Petyr turned on his heels and made his way out of the sept. He could feel the High Sparrow's eyes trailing after him the entire time. It was obvious that a war was brewing in King's Landing and one that Petyr wanted nothing to do with it. He would keep his eye on it; simply to see who the victor was and whether or not it would be an ally or foe.

Allowing Cersei and the High Sparrow to fight their battles might destroy them both.

Petyr could only hope.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I really enjoyed writing this chapter. The banter between the high sparrow and Petyr was fun. Now, I did borrow some of the language from the show but I felt that it would have been better between Petyr and sparrow. 
> 
> What do you think?


	5. V: Young Falcon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!

V: Young Falcon

“ _Harry the Heir. My husband-to-be, if he will have me.”_

Harry the Heir was an ass. There really was no other way to describe the pretentious man whore that he was. Sansa only saw him in fleeting moments but whenever she did, he would allow his eyes to travel over her person as though he was imagining her naked. Clearly, he thought that the only thing she was good for, was to spread her legs for him in his bed. She was a bastard after all. What could she possibly be useful for except sex?

There was a part of her that wanted to see Harry on his knees for her. She wanted to break him. She wanted to put him in his place in a way that no one ever had before. She wanted him to worship her only to ruin him completely. Sansa didn't know why she was feeling such hateful feelings toward Harry. The only conclusion she could assume was that he reminded her of everything she had once wanted to be. If Sansa had never been sent to King's Landing to be Joffrey's puppet but instead married Harry because it was arranged by her father, she was certain that she would have been happy with him. She would have turned a blind eye to his affairs, much like her mother had with Jon Snow.

Part of her hated herself for that. She hated that, at one time, she would have settled for someone like him. She supposed that it was the only thing, for which she could thank Joffrey for. He taught her that she was worth so much more than Harry Hardying. She would marry him, certainly, but she knew that Petyr wouldn't allow that marriage to last long. Petyr wasn't above taking a life and Sansa found herself wanting to break Harry in more ways than one.

She had given up feeling guilty for her bloodlust. It was shocking at first but now she had accepted that it was a part of her. During that moment when Joffrey was showing her, her father's head, she had wanted nothing more than to push him off that plank. If the Hound hadn’t stopped her, she was certain she would have done it. Watching him die at his own wedding was far more pleasurable than she could have ever imagined. Then, knowing that Petyr pushed Lysa out the Moon Door for her solidified that darkness in her. Gone was the noble daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. In her place was this dark creation, created by Littlefinger.

She never would admit it aloud but Sansa liked Alayne far more than the daughter Ned and Catelyn had raised.

As she watched Myranda and Harry fawn all over each other, she felt nauseous. She was waiting for Lady Waynwood and the other declarants in order to begin the small council meeting. Having Petyr leave her in charge of the Vale was far more work than she had anticipated. Granted, she knew it was going to be work, but the added stress of her fiancé blatantly disregarding her existence. When Waynwood appeared by her side, Sansa turned in a huff and marched directly into the same chamber that the declarants interrogated Petyr in; leaving Harry and Myranda pawing all over each other.

“Give him time. He will be over his fling with Myranda soon enough. He tires of them easily. You, however, will be his wife and a woman that he has never experienced before.” Sansa knew that Waynwood meant it to be a compliment but all she heard between her words was the fact that he would grow tired of her but unable to be rid of her.

“Thank you. I appreciate your words of encouragement.” Sansa gave her the innocent smile she had perfected since she had been there. She sat down at the head of the chamber and leaned back. The rest filed in and she watched them. It took a few moments for everyone to be settled and Sansa stood; beginning the meeting.

Sansa found herself falling into a routine. She would hear each lords review, complaint and any other issue they had in regard to their sections of the Vale. Most of the lords did not take to her, even knowing the truth of who she really was. Perhaps it was because she was a woman or they thought she was too young. Sansa didn't know why some treated her with distain but the truth was that Petyr had left her in charge of the Vale in his absence. About twenty into the meeting, the door opened again and Sansa was about to reprimand the intruders until she saw who it was. It appeared that Lord Royce had pulled Harry from his daughter's embrace and had dragged him to the small council.

“Well, look who decided to join us, my betrothed. Pull yourself away from your mistress long enough to actually try for some responsibility? Is this going to be our marriage Harry? You whoring yourself into an early grave while I fulfill your responsibilities?” He scowled and squared his shoulders, as though he wanted to make himself bigger than her.

“And leave a bastard in charge. Who do I look like, Littlefinger?” Harry snapped back and Sansa felt herself scowl. Nestor bowed his head but said nothing. It was no secret that he was not in agreement with the affair his daughter was having, which was becoming the worst kept secret in the Vale. Sansa was about to give another retort but she felt a hand on her forearm. She turned to see Waynwood giving her a gentle smile.

“Perhaps it is time for my nephew to know the truth.” She said with conviction and Sansa could hear mummers of agreement from the few declarants. If Harry knew, he might start treating her like the lady she truly was. While Sansa wanted nothing more, than to make Harry feel every inch of the inconvenience he was, Sansa also didn't want him to know. He didn't deserve to know her.

“The truth, about what? And why is she here anyway? It is one thing for my kingdom to be ruled by Littlefinger, it is another for him to leave his bastard in charge while he goes off to Gods know where.”Harry spouted off. Nestor told him to hold his tongue while the rest of the declarants simply looked ashamed, except Waynwood. She fixed her nephew with a harsh stare and was about to reprimand him but this time, Sansa held a finger to her, silencing the older woman.

“First, _Littlefinger_ was summoned to King's Landing by the Queen. Do you just suppose that he ignores such a request? If you say so, then you are clearly not fit to rule. Second, he put me in charge because he knows that I am far more capable than you. Third, this is not your kingdom. My father is Lord Protector until Robin comes of age; or have you forgotten about your cousin?” Harry froze then and it was obvious to Sansa that he was already assuming that he would become Lord of the Vale.

“Robin is sickly.”

“Be that as it may, Lord Hardying, but remember that I have grown fond of Robin during my time here and I will protect him in any way I can.” Truth being Sansa couldn't stand the young boy, for he was the weakest creature she had ever seen; and Sansa had spent close to three years in King's Landing under Joffrey's temper. However, if it infuriated Harry then Sansa was more than pleased to pretend to love the little lord. It would also benefit both her and Petyr if it was clear they supported Robin because Sansa knew Petyr had a sinister plan for him. If they cared for him, it would appear to keep their hands clean.

“What have you all been lying to me about?” Harry snapped, clearly done speaking about Robin. He wanted to go back to pretending that the young boy did not exist. It made Sansa curious of his upbringing. She didn't know what had happened to his parents, because he was raised by Waynwood. She didn't understand how someone so stern and matronly, could have raise a fool such as Harry.

“My name.” Sansa replied and he appeared even more confused than before. His eyebrows knotted together in confusion and his face creased. It was clear that he was attempting to figure out what she was talking about, how her name was a lie, and it was something that he couldn't have work out. “Oh, look. The lost falcon is confused.”

“Explain!” He stated through clenched teeth.

“Lord Petyr Baelish does not have children.” It was Waynwood who spoke up. It would be best if she allowed the declarants to reveal the truth because he wouldn't believe her. He only knew her as a bastard and thus, she must be a liar as well. “He does not have a bastard nor any natural children. This is not Alayne Stone. There is no Alayne Stone.”

“I don't-”

“You’re a falcon. I'm a wolf.” Sansa stated and Harry still didn't understand. “Sansa, Sansa Stark. That is my name. That is who I am.”

“I don't believe you.”

“It is the truth, Harold.” Waynwood stated. He looked at his aunt in disbelief. It couldn't be true but he knew that his aunt would never lie to him; not about something this serious. “Lord Baelish brought her to the Eyrie with the facade of his daughter, in order to protect her. There are many people who want her dead and most wouldn't give a second glance to a bastard.”

“And you all have been lying to me this entire time?” Harry snapped, his eyes focused completely on her now, as though he was looking at her for the first time. Sansa didn't appreciate the look he was giving her, it was as though he wanted to see her without the dark dress she had on. She wanted nothing more than his eyes to be averted. However, she was not going to give him any sort of satisfaction of discomfort; instead, she matched his gaze directly back. “Doesn't Sansa Stark have red hair? All I see is black.”

“It is amazing what vinegar and the bark of a Weirwood tree will do.” She smirked and she couldn't help but know that Petyr would be extremely proud of her. She had Harry in a position that he wasn't used to; a woman was besting him and he clearly hated it. “I took a bastard name because no one looks twice at a bastard. Now, if you don't mind picking up your jaw off the floor, we have much to accomplish.”

Sansa could see the tone of his skin turn red. His eyes focused on his aunt's hand that was linked with hers. It was clear that Waynwood believed Sansa and Harry wasn't one to argue with his aunt. However, he had made a point to openly dislike her in front of everyone. He proclaimed loudly that she wasn't worth him because she was below him in rank. Now, he was beginning to realize that not only was Sansa true born, but a high lady of a house that outranked him.

“And have a traitor run my kingdom, I think not.” No one said a word and Sansa refused to breathe. The room seemed uncomfortable and no one wanted to look at her. Sansa couldn't blame them, for she had been labeled a traitor to the crown, even if it were all lies. “Or did you all forget? Sansa Stark stands wanted for murdering the King! Do you honestly expect us to harbor a known murder?!”

“I did not kill Joffrey; but I wish I had.” Would this always follow her? Would she always have to look over her shoulder wondering if the whisperers of Joffrey would always linger behind her. Was this how Jaime Lannister felt when the word 'Kingslayer' was forever linked to him? She hated Jaime but with this she could sympathize. “You have no idea what King's Landing was like under his rule. You were safe here, in the Vale. Removed from the war.”

“And what? You were held captive in a palace? Treated like a princess? Sounds awful.” The sarcasm in Harry's tone infuriated her. Belittling the worst experiences of her life as though they were nothing caused her to have the desire to make him bleed. The entire room went still. No one wanted to breath. Waynwood hissed Harry's name but he didn't end his glare on Sansa.

“You're right. I was treated like a princess. I wore pretty dresses, had my hair done in the fashion alike to Queen Cersei. I smiled and laughed as I attended tourneys and feasts.” Sansa gave a slight giggle that held no humor in it. Her smile was sinister and she could see Harry tense. “Those pretty gowns? They hid the bruises Joffrey gave me. I had so many of them made for me because he continued to rip the fabric from my body as he watched his guards beat me. Over and over again, I was humiliated due to Joffrey's torture. I can still feel his hands on my chin as he forcefully made me look at my father's decapitated head. So yes. It was awful.”

“So, you admit to killing him?”

“I wish that I had.”

“And what of your husband – Lord Tyrion, was it? Did he kill the King for you? Not wanting to see his bride suffer in such a way?” Harry was once again trying to find something wrong with her. Her marriage to Tyrion was going to be the most difficult hurdle she had to face with distancing herself from her life in King's Landing. “Or did we all forget that she is still married.”

“I have no knowledge of Tyrion's involvement with Joffrey's murder but I doubt it. Tyrion would never bet against his family let alone kill a member of it.” Sansa snapped. She found that she didn't like Harry criticizing Tyrion. It wasn't that she had feelings for the dwarf, but she didn't hate him. If anything, she respected him. In the back of her mind she knew that it was hypocritical because she was more than fine with Petyr framing Tyrion for Joffrey's murder and sentencing him to death.

“Defending your husband then?” Harry snapped back. “It seems that we can't be married then, seeing that you already have one. Curious as to why Littlefinger wanted to fake this engagement.” Harry seemed far too comfortable suddenly. He was more than happy to believe her to be Sansa Stark if that meant he didn't have to marry her. That caused anger to course through her veins again. She dug her nails into Waynewood’s hand; Sansa hadn't realized she was gripping it. The older woman didn't flinch.

“Now, now. Don't be hasty Harold. Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion will be considered invalid soon enough. It was never consummated.” Harry's face constricted in confusion as though he was attempting to work out his aunt's word. It almost made Sansa laugh to see him thinking so hard. She wondered if it hurt.

“I don't understand. What do you mean not consummated?”

“The term you are looking for is 'unconsummated' and what your aunt means is that neither Tyrion nor I wanted that marriage. Tyrion never took me to bed. I'm still a virgin.” Sansa willed herself not to blush. She had just announced that she was untouched in front of a room full of middle aged men. She could tell that they all seemed uncomfortable for not one would look at her. “Virgin. Come on Harry, you have to know that term at least because you've taken many young girls’ virginity.”

“It's not possible.”

“What? You taking young girls’ virtue? None of us are fools Harry, we know what you like to do in your spare time and with whom.”

"No. I mean, it is not possible for you to be a virgin.” Sansa stared at him blankly. She had never been alone with Harry long enough for him to know whether or not she was a virgin. She was baffled. “I mean, it is obvious. You're a bastard; or at least I thought you were. You certainly act like one, with your affairs and all.”

“Affairs? What affairs are you referring too?”

“Well there are all the knights you've been with. They all claim to have had you. It is sickeningly impressive.” She could almost hear the admiration in his tone but it was hidden by the hypocritical one that overshadowed it. It was clear that Harry thought it was perfectly fine for him to bed anyone he pleased but if his bride was to do so, then he would have casted her out. The thought that Sansa had been with almost every man he knew wouldn't stop him from wanting her, it just was enough for him not to want to marry her. “Not to mention your affair with Lord Nestor.”

“I beg your pardon!” Nestor protested. His face grew red and his eyes widened. The rest of the members of the council bristled, their eyes darting between Sansa and him. She wouldn't put it past them to believe a single word about her whoring herself. “I have never touched Lady Sansa in any improper way!”

“You seem rather close with her.” Harry snapped. His eyes narrowed at the old her man as though he personally offended him. Sansa wasn't pleased by the thought that Harry was already viewing her as property. “You've been seen strolling with her, arms linked.”

“That is because I am a gentleman! Something you know nothing about.”

“Boy. Calm yourselves.” Waynewood added in a bored tone. “Yes. Lady Sansa and Lord Nestor have been seen strolling throughout the Vale. They are discussing matters of your kingdom. If you would have put forth the effort of coming to meetings Harry, you would have known all of this long before now.”

“So, we are all to believe that this girl is a virgin Sansa Stark? Hiding from the bounty that is put on her head?” He believed it, Sansa knew he did; she could see it in his eyes. He knew that his aunt would never lie to him about something of this magnitude. “Not to mention Littlefinger. Why would he help her? A whoremonger like him? No. I can put aside the rumors of the knights, for they do like to boast but she must have put out for him at least. Littlefinger wouldn't risk his neck if she wasn't allowing to get his _little finger_ wet.” Harry laughed at his own joke and didn't notice that he was the only one who did so.

Sansa stood from her chair and walked slowly over to Harry; her face blank. The sound of her shoes tapping against the stone floor echoed. She stood directly in front of Harry, looking deep into his blue eyes. She found no spark of intelligence there and no deeper mystery. Harry was exactly what he presented and she found every inch of him wanting. She raised her hand and tucked a small piece of his blond hair behind his ear before slapping him across the face and once she was done, Harry was sporting a bright red mark on his cheek.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear. Lord Baelish has never once been improper with me. When I was at my lowest, he was the only friend I had. He helped me escape, not out of some desire to bed me, but because he actually cared about my welfare.” Truth mixed with lies. Her mind flashed to the kisses they had shared and she wanted more of them. Could that be considered improper? Allowing a man who she knew she wasn't going to marry touch her in ways that would condemn her in the eyes of society? Well, society already believed her to be a murder, what does the term whore compare to that? Either way, Sansa found she didn't care but she needed the Lords here to believe in her virtue. “I could make you Harry. There is a chance that you will never have the Vale. Robin will grow into a strong lord and you will always be known as Harry the Heir and never Harry the Lord. I, however, have my own birthright. I will take back the North in the name of my family. Or, I could break you. You need me Harry and I certainly, don't need you.”

His eyes narrowed, and he examined her, but it wasn't in a way that a man eyed the whore he had just paid for. This was a look of someone who was intrigued and curious. Her words resounded with him and Sansa had to fight back a smile. This was progress. Petyr wanted her to gain his affections, perhaps all Harry needed was a woman who didn't bow to him. A woman that he wouldn't grow bored with. Sansa needed to be that woman. Before anyone could say another word, the door burst open and a small boy entered. Sansa couldn't remember his name but she knew that he was a bastard and that he cleaned the fireplaces.

“My lady! Riders have been spotted making their way up the mountain. Your father has returned home!” Petyr. He was back and days ahead of schedule. This pleased Sansa. While she preferred the Vale to King's Landing, she felt suffocated without him here. He was her only true friend here and the only one she could confide in. Against her better judgement, Sansa found herself trusting him.

“Well, it appears that we are to get nothing done today. It will be better to reconvene once my father has rested, perhaps in the morning. You're all dismissed.” Sansa turned to make her way out of the chamber but Harry stopped her, placing his hand on her arm. She turned to look at him, her black hair tossing slightly with the movement. “Excuse me, I plan on greeting Lord Baelish at the gate.”

“You're not from here. You can't dismiss the lords.”

“You’re still a silly little fool. Clearly my words have had no effect to you.” Sansa snapped back, pulling her arm out of his grasp. “You simply do not understand that Robin is alive and well. He is young and in the custody of Lord Baelish. That makes Lord Baelish, Lord Protector of the Vale. Until Robin is of age, the Vale belongs to him. He left for a time and put me in charge in his absence. That is how the chain of command works.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Let me make myself clear. I am down bowing to the likes of men such as yourself. If you ever do become my husband, never expect to find me on my knees.”

With that, Sansa made her way out of the chamber; feeling proud of herself. She certainly had his attention and now all she needed to do was keep it. She smirked and decided to put Harry out of her mind for a moment. Petyr was home, and that caused a happiness to run through her that she hadn't expected. She missed him more than she would ever say aloud, even to herself. She wanted him returned to her and she wanted nothing more than to have him here; never to part from her. To Sansa, Petyr was the last family she had and she would always hold onto that.

She ran outside the castle and weaved through the knights. She made her way to the front of the small crowed and waited. Knights and lords talked around her but she heard none of them. All she could focus on was the edge of the mountain where she would know Petyr would appear. She felt the Lords of the Vale file beside her and Waynwood link their arms together. Fifteen minutes later, they could see people begin to make their way up the mountain and appear at the edge.

Petyr was the third man she saw, the first two where guards he had taken with him. Sansa could feel the smile light up her face as he appeared. She studied him, wondering if he had changed in the weeks they had been apart; but she couldn't find any differences. He still had the dark black hair with wisps of grey at his temples. He wore his dark cloak that was held together with his silver mockingbird pin. Sansa reached for her own pendant that Petyr had given to her. When she was able to take back her own name, she knew that this pin was something she would continue to wear. She may be a wolf, but she had been touched by a mockingbird.

“Alayne.” His voice fell over her like music. His hands were outstretched and a small smile lingered on his lips. It was different from his usual smirk that he wore. This smile made him look younger and more handsome. He held out his arms and Sansa went into them eagerly. “Gods I've missed you.” He whispered in her ear.

“Me too.” Petyr pulled away quickly and took her hand into his. He led her toward the castle in a gentle manner. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a father leading his daughter towards shelter, but Sansa could see Waynewood's curious eyes staring at them. The older woman was far more intelligent than men gave her credit. She saw things that most did not. Sansa could only hope that she didn't see too much in the interactions between Petyr and herself.

“Make sure our guest is comfortable.” Petyr stated to one of the knights who had traveled with him. “Tell him that my daughter and I shall join him for supper. He may have some questions. Tell him I will answer everything tonight. Oh, and please inform Lord Nestor that he shall join us as well and to bring Myranda.”

“Father, what is going on? Who is this guest?”

“Alayne, there is much to discuss and I don't want to do it here.” Petyr's voice was stern but gentle at the same time. His eyes explained everything to her. He needed to speak to Sansa and that could only be done in private. Sansa nodded her head and the two remained silent for the remainder of their walk. Petyr spoke to a few of the lords; they briefed him of the Vale's status during his absence. “Sounds like my daughter did well while I was away.”

His tone was proud and Sansa could feel heat crawling up her skin. She smiled, pleased at his compliment. The strolled through the castle and Petyr single handily dismissed most of the people who were following him, asking him questions and in need of his attention. He gave them jobs to do and dismissed them as if it was a gift that he was needed. Soon, Sansa found herself in Petyr's chamber with him closing the door on the outside world.

Quickly, Sansa found her back pressed against the wooden door and Petyr's lips on hers. His hands were on her hips and his tongue in her mouth. He pressed himself against her and Sansa wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She allowed his hands to trace her clothed body. They've kissed before but never like this. He had never pressed against her in this manner. She wanted more. She knew that more existed but she didn't know exactly what that felt like. She wanted to feel that with Petyr, but she couldn't.

Far too soon, Petyr pulled away. His breath was heavy and she could feel its warmth on her pale skin. He rested his forehead upon hers and his grey-green eyes gazed into her ice blue ones. They looked at one another and Sansa never felt so raw in her life. It was in that moment, Sansa knew she would do anything for him. She would sacrifice herself in order to protect him. It was foolish. It was reckless. It was everything her father taught her not to do; and yet she would follow Petyr blindly, even if it meant to her death.

Joffrey was never like this. It was a mild infatuation compared to the passion of Petyr's lips against hers. She would kill for it. She would marry Harry the Heir if it meant she could have Petyr too. He wanted power. He wanted to become everything he was told he couldn't be. He needed Sansa for that. He needed not only the Vale but the North.

Petyr needed Sansa.

And for now, Sansa deemed that it would be enough.

“I missed you. King's Landing is hot and smells like bile. Before it never bothered me. Many years, turning out whores and a few months in the Vale with you, suddenly the place where all power lies becomes unbearable.” He was vulnerable. Sansa had never seen him in such a state. He seemed disheveled. She could ask him anything in that moment and he would give it to her. Questions about his relationship with her mother, and the affair with Lysa was on the tip of her tongue.

But she didn't ask...

“I believe you said you had things you wanted to discuss with me.” She could hear the heaviness in her own voice. Her chest was heaving and she attempted to catch her breath. Petyr's eyes traveled to her chest, where her cleavage was moving up and down. “Lord Baelish?”

“Call me Petyr.”

“Then tell me what you need to tell me Petyr.” He pulled away from her and turned his back. She could see that he was adjusting his clothes and let out a little cough. Sansa wasn't exactly sure what he needed to adjust but she knew that their kiss had affected him, just as much as it affected her. He stood motionless for a few moments. He gave a small cough and a few deep breaths. Slowly, he turned back around.

“I want to give you an update on the ongoings in King's Landing. It appears that Cersei is distracted and has pushed aside the matter of needing your head on a stick in order to pursue a much bigger cause.” Sansa didn't say anything but instead just gave Petyr a blank look. “She is currently more focused on her hatred of Margaery.”

“Cersei always seemed to have tolerated Margaery. I mean, she convinced Joffrey to set me aside in order for him to marry Margaery.” It was true. It was one of the many reasons Sansa adored Margaery; she prevented her from marrying Joffrey. That would have been a nightmare of a marriage and Sansa was certain she would have ended her life rather than be married to such a monster. “Am I missing something?”

“Tommen recently married Margaery.” Sansa's eyebrows shot up in complete surprise. Tommen was still young. Younger than her sixteen years of age and Margaery was older than her. Sansa had always wondered if there was something in Joffrey, Margaery had seen; but knowing now that she had married Tommen, it was clear the only thing Margaery had wanted was the throne. It all came back to that horrid chair. “You seemed surprised.”

“I am! What has Cersei done that makes you believe she is focused on over throwing Margaery.”

“Besides being forced to be called the Queen Mother by a much more beautiful woman and no longer having the power that comes with being queen?” Petyr smirked. Suddenly in dawned on Sansa. It wasn't that Cersei was angry at Margaery, she was angry at the thought that she couldn't control Margaery and to an extent her son. “She has given the Faith militant and a man called, the High Sparrow, powers and freedoms that they didn't have previously; such has making arrests against those who have disobeyed the Faith and the right to be armed.”

“Is she completely foolish?” Hearing this now made Sansa wonder what it was that she saw in the woman. There was no intelligence in any of the moves she had made since Sansa had been in the Vale. She was thinking and playing with her emotions and not her mind. She had Sansa put aside in order for Joffrey to marry Margaery, only to learn that she couldn't control her; like she would have been able to with Sansa; a factor that Sansa hated to admit. “Does she not realize that such a move would backfire on her? With her indiscretions being so public? Margaery is a saint, literally compared to her. Margaery makes it known that she cares for the poor, while Cersei does nothing but condemn them.”

“But there is the issue with her brother Loras's affairs. He likes to bed men, not women.” Sansa had not known that and felt suddenly embarrassed. She had almost convinced herself that she would be Loras's wife. She could see Petyr evaluating her reaction, but Sansa made sure she appeared unaffected by the news.

“Be that as it may, Margaery could easily distance herself if she can prove she had no knowledge of his affairs. Cersei, there is no way of distancing herself from the fact that she likes to bed her twin brother. I can see a way out for Margaery and possibly Loras, but nothing good will come for Cersei with this idiotic plan!”

“That is exactly what I thought.” Sansa felt proud at his approval. The idea that he shared her ideas and sentiment made Sansa feel less like the silly little girl others always assumed she was. Petyr saw something in her that everyone else had missed. “Which is why I knew that I wouldn't be able to get what I needed from her.”

“Which was what?”

“An annulment for you.” This surprised her. How would Cersei grant Sansa anything was beyond her. Not only that, but how would Petyr convince her without raising suspicion; she would never know. “Instead, I went to the High Sparrow himself. I won't get into the details but the man isn't as holy as he likes to pretend he is. With a bit of leverage and convincing, he agreed to convince the new boy king to grant an annulment.” Sansa had to sit down at this point. Petyr had promised that he would get her out of her marriage with Tyrion. At first, he had planned to make her a widow but that didn’t turn out fruitful.

“That is why you followed Cersei's summons. Not out of the loyalty you fake, but for an alternative motive.” She shouldn't be surprised and if it wasn't for the smirk on her lips, Petyr might have thought she disapproved. “So, other than my annulment, Cersei's horrible revenge plan and the Faith, how was King's Landing?”

“Awful. My business is gone.” Petyr let the bitterness roll off his tongue. In King's Landing, he refused to bow to the High Sparrow; claiming at the defeat that such a man ruined the main way his gold rolled in. “I spent years building and buying every brothel in King's Landing, it made me richer than being Master of Coin ever could.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sure that it must be a great loss to you. Income wise I mean.”

“No. Well, yes but I have enough gold to survive three lifetimes. Whores were not my only investment.” His voice was cryptic and Sansa refused to engage. It would not surprise her if some of his business dealings would cause him to be arrested for treason. Smuggling her from King's Landing was more than enough of a reason to be arrested and beheaded. “However, there is another matter that I discovered in King's Landing. I didn't go there searching for it but instead, he presented himself to me.”

“He?”

“Yes.” Petyr paused and seemed hesitant; which was a first for him. Sansa had never seen him search for his words before. It caused worry to grow in her bones. “I beg of you not to be angry with me. I promise that he will not know who you really are, nor will he recognize you. The Lords of the Vale would never tell him of your true identity.”

“Petyr, you're scaring me. Who did you bring back from King's Landing?”

“I wouldn't have brought him if he wasn't necessary. I promise you but he is needed in the grand scheme of everything.” Petyr paused again. “I know you want your home back. In order to help you do that, I need to know what is going on inside of Winterfell. I need to understand the enemy, far more than I already do. I wouldn't risk you, I can't risk you and underestimating the enemy would be a fatal mistake.”

“Petyr” she said, interrupting him “Please, just tell me. Who is it?”

“Roose Bolton.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we got the first glimpse of Harry and how he thinks. He also knows the truth about Sansa. But Petyr brought back Roose Bolton and we all know that is not going to go well.


	6. The Flayed Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

VI: The Flayed Man

_Power tastes best when sweetened by courtesy._

Sansa had never been more furious than she was now with Petyr in that moment. When he first told her that it was Roose Bolton that he had brought back from King's Landing, she had felt the entire inside of her body go numb. She would have welcomed anyone, perhaps even Cersei, besides that dreaded man, he had conspired against her family. He had helped plot and murder her mother and brother at her uncle's wedding. Even the idea of being near him caused her more grief than she had ever expected.

She had never met any of the Boltons. Her father had not been keen on allowing him inside of Winterfell, due to their unsavory reputation. After learning that Roose had betrayed her brother, and their mother, Sansa deemed that her father had been right. Why would Robb even seek council from a man their father deemed unsavory? Then again, Ned had asked for Petyr's council and he had not only betrayed him, but blindsided him as well. If Ned stated that he did not trust Roose, a man who put his trust in Petyr, then Sansa was intelligent enough to know that Roose was not someone to put her faith in.

Yet, trusting Roose was not something Sansa would ever be capable of. The murderer of her mother and brother. Yet, a part of her wanted to seek Roose out himself and murder him. Could that be why Petyr had brought Roose here? For her to have her revenge? No. Petyr was smarter than that. There would have to be some other reason why.

Sansa knew there was.

She was just too angry to really process Petyr's claims.

Her nails dug into her palm and her eyes narrowed at him. Petyr backed away slightly with his hands reaching out to her. It was foolish to anger a wolf, even if it was meant to help her in the long run. He needed Roose. Sansa needed Roose and one day she would ensure that he got the fate that he deserved. She knew that she would need Petyr in order to achieve her goal of making Roose suffer. She would need Petyr in order to regain Winterfell.

No matter how logical her mind was trying to be, her emotions were overcoming all rationale. Petyr could see the ice in her eyes and placed his hands on her shoulders. Sansa shrugged them off. She turned her back on him because she found that she didn't want to say something she would regret later. Before, Sansa had never cared about the feelings of those she hurt. She would sling hate filled words at her mother when she was feeling especially bratty and the same was true for the rest of her family. Now, they were all gone and Sansa was left with no one else but Petyr.

She didn't and couldn't lose him. If the death of her family taught her one thing, it was to hold onto what was left close to her. Petyr was the only person she had left. Despite all of that, she knew that if she was angry at him now, it would cause him to leave her. By the look on his face, Sansa assumed that he knew that she was going to be angry. He knowingly brought a man that had sided with the Lannisters to the Vale; the exact people he was trying to hide her from. She knew that he needed the Lannisters to still believe that he was on their side, despite the fact that he had betrayed them more so than anyone else. He not only smuggled Sansa out of Kings Landing, but also helped murder the king; a Lannister king.

“Sansa. Sweetling. Let me explain.” He approached her with his arms held up as though he was approaching a rouge lion.

_Wolf. A rouge wolf._ That is what she was, _wasn't it?_

“Don't. Don't try and sweet talk me.” She hissed through her teeth. She relaxed her hands only to be able to cross her arms. She fixed Petyr with an intense stare and she could see the remorse in his eyes. It wasn't remorse about bringing Roose to the Vale, but instead that one of his actions had caused her pain. “Explain; and it better be brilliant.”

“I'm so sorry, if any of my actions have caused you pain.” Petyr began but could tell that Sansa didn't want to hear apologizes. “I went to King's Landing with the sole purpose of finding a way for you to be released from your marriage to Tyrion Lannister. However, I quickly realized that I was not the only person Cersei summoned. When I realized that Roose Bolton was going to be in King's Landing at the same time as me; I saw an opportunity.”

“What opportunity could be so important that you drag that...monster here!” Sansa snapped. Suddenly the words were pouring out of her lips. “He murdered my family. He betrayed my brother and killed his pregnant wife. What could you possibly have with him?! Unless you were involved with the Red Wedding! You betrayed my father, who says that you didn't betray the rest of my family!”

“Sansa. Please. Listen.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave a squeeze. He expected her to shrug him off but instead she welcomed his embrace. “I would never hurt you unless there was a reason and unfortunately, I need Roose to tie up a few loose ends. He will not be here long.” Sansa relaxed slightly. “He has no idea who you are and I promise he will only remember you as my bastard daughter. They will never know who you really. I stake my life on it.”

Petyr was the most selfish person she knew; and that was something that even he would admit to. The fact that he was willing to stake his life on anything spoken to her. In the back of her mind, the small voice stated that he was lying in hopes that he could sway her to his side. Whether or not he meant them was something she couldn't put together. Was he lying? Was he being honest? In honestly, Sansa couldn't tell the difference between Petyr and Littlefinger. There was a second, when he pushed Lysa from the moon door, that she saw Petyr at his rawest.

“Then why is he here?”

“Killing two birds with one stone.”

“What?”

“I promised Lord Royce that I would help find a husband for his daughter. That would keep her out of Harry's bed and easier for him to fall for you.” Sansa didn't understand how Roose would be connected to Myranda, unless…

“Wait. Are you saying that you want Roose to marry Myranda?”

“No.” He paused and clearly saw Sansa’s confusion. “Roose had his bastard legitimized. Ramsay, at least to Roose, is the heir to Winterfell. I intend to have Myranda marry Ramsay.” Sansa stood frozen. She had heard of Ramsay Bolton; the whole North had. He was as infamous as he was cruel. The Flayed Man on their sigil was perfect for him. He tortured people for sport. Once her father, Ned, had asked Roose to gain a handle on the bastard but Roose continued to allow him to run wild.

“He will...the things he will do to her...”

“I am well aware of what Ramsay Bolton is capable of. Myranda Royce will have a part to play and I doubt that I could find someone else to fill the role she is clearly made for.” Sansa didn't understand. How was Myranda perfect? What was she capable of that no one else was? Petyr spoke in riddles and it was one of the few things that infuriated Sansa about him; at times more often than not. She liked that he challenged her and wanted her to figure out the world for herself, with only minimal help from him. “Unless we find Arya Stark but I doubt that you would allow your baby sister to marry Ramsay. Which would bring us back to Myranda.”

“I-what?”

“The North is rebelling against the Boltons. They do not want him. They want a Stark to lead them and it does not help that he gained the North by betraying and murdering the last few Starks that were left. However, Roose feels that if Ramsay was to marry one of the daughters of Ned Stark, then perhaps they will bend. The issue is that neither Sansa nor Arya are anywhere to be found.”

“So, you want to pawn Myranda off as Arya?” Sansa couldn’t help but remember her first thoughts about Myranda; for she looked similar to her sister, Arya. More mature, certainly, but close enough. No one in the North had seen Arya and when they had, she had been just a young girl. Myranda showing up, many of the Northern lords couldn't question the similarity.

“Exactly.” Sansa took a moment to let everything sink in. “I only know where one Stark girl is and I would be a fool to allow the Boltons near her. I cannot and will not lose you Sansa; even if that means making you have a brief encounter with someone you wished to never see. I want nothing more than to help you get your home back.”

“How will Myranda being wed to Ramsay help with me regaining the North?”

“There is nothing better than an informant.” Petyr intended to use Myranda as a spy on what went on inside of Winterfell. Information they could potentially use at a later date against the Boltons. “With the trauma that Ramsay is bound to put her through, I can see her willing to betray him. How would we convince her father though, that we knew nothing of Ramsay's tendencies?”

“We lie Sweetling and lying is something you have become so talented in doing.” Petyr tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “We will send Lord Royce to the North alongside his daughter. Put him at the mercy of Ramsay. He will either return a broken man or not return at all.” His tone was easy, as though the thought of sending Royce to his death was nothing. This was Littlefinger. Slowly, Sansa was learning to tell them apart. At one time, she might have thought they were one; but now she knew better. The only question was; did he intend for her to see that or was she more perceptive than she thought? “Now. The cooks are preparing a delightful meal. I won't ask you to say much but I want you to be there when I introduce Myranda to Roose.”

“Wouldn't it be easier for me not to be there at all? Roose would never need to know that you have a daughter.” It was true. Sansa could hide herself away for the few days that Roose would be with them and pretend that Alayne Stone was never created. However, what Sansa didn't know was that Petyr had been mentioning her name, here and there, to Roose in order for him not to be completely blindsided. He even had a few of the knights mention her in Roose presences. It wasn't enough to be shocked but instead a tale that Roose realized that he didn't know Petyr as well as he thought he did. It was enough curiosity to bring Roose to the Vale.

“Easier. Certainly; but not as worthwhile. I want you to be there tonight; at dinner.” Sansa looked down, uncertain about whether or not she would be able to face Roose. “I have faith in you. If you are ever going win back Winterfell, you're going to have do some very uncomfortable things. Having dinner with the man who helped end the lives of your brother and mother is just the beginning.” Petyr held out his hand and Sansa looked at it.

She could tell that Petyr was leading her down a dark path. If she took his hand, Sansa knew that she would never be able to come back from it. She wavered for a second and reached out, placing her hand into his. She didn't know if it was the right decision to make but Sansa felt that it was the only option she had. Petyr took her hand and brought it to his lips. The feel of them against her skin sent chills down her spine.

“I don't like this. I don't want him here.” Sansa felt that her displeasure was clear but she wanted those words to be said aloud. A flash of disappointment crossed Petyr's face; and while he hid it quickly enough, Sansa still saw it. “I'll do it but know that I will never be happy while he is here.” Petyr smiled at her; a real smile. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

“I promise that he will not be here long.”

In the several hours that passed while the evening meal was being prepared, Sansa hid herself away in her private chambers; locking even Robin out. The young boy had knocked, several times but Sansa felt that she couldn't answer. She had played her part dutifully, always tending to his needs but right now Sansa felt that she had earned her few moments of silence. She knew she should be working on Harry, especially now that he knew who she really was, it was possible that he was more receptive to her. She needed to use that before he grew angry again.

But she couldn't. The only thing she could focus on was the bubbling distress building in the pit of her stomach. She imagined over and over again what that moment would be like; dining with the man who had murdered her mother and betrayed her brother. She had never met him before but Sansa couldn't help but imagine him to be the monster in every fairytale she had heard of as a child; ugly and disfigured. Yet, Joffrey taught her that monsters could be beautiful.

Sansa was jolted out of her thoughts when she heard a forceful and annoyed knock at her door. Like every other knock, she ignored it. However, unlike Robin this knocker did not leave when they realized Sansa wasn't going to answer. Eventually, the persistence knocking got on Sansa's nerves and she pulled herself from the bed that she had been laying on. She opened the wooden door and saw that it was Myranda on the other side.

“Your father has sent me to fetch you.” Myranda scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Me. A highborn daughter fetching a bastard.” Sansa didn't reply but instead, she straightened her dress and brushed past Myranda. She shut the door firmly behind her and locked it. Myranda eyed the door curiously but said nothing; instead focusing on the black dress Sansa was wearing. “Alayne, have you ever thought about wearing something more colorful? All I have ever seen you in are dark dresses. With your black hair, your clothing choices make you look a bit harsh. Beautiful cheekbones but harsh.”

“I happen to like my wardrobe.” Bright colors reminded her too much of King's Landing. She grew up in the cold and she had always wanted to ignore the snow by forcing color into her life. Now, she wanted nothing more than the snow to wash the color from her life. Myranda reached out and touched her hair, causing Sansa to have to smack her hand away. “Don't touch me.”

“Have you thought about possibly changing it? Your hair I mean.”

“No.”

“But-”

“Look, the dining chamber." Sansa rushed her and entered the hall. Myranda went and slipped her arm into Harry's, despite her father's disapproving look. Sansa scanned the rest of the dining hall and spotted Petyr speaking to another man; a man Sansa could only assume was Roose Bolton. He was shorter than she imagined. He was taller than Petyr but Sansa had created him in her mind to be a villain to the point that her mind’s eye saw him as a giant. He had a more pointed face than she had thought he would have but that was common for people in the North; harsh features come with living in the cold.

Neither of them looked at her. She saw Petyr's eyes flicker toward her for a moment but he didn't draw attention to her. It was temporary and brief, but she was thankful for it. Instead, Petyr was pointing discreetly at Harry and Myranda. Roose's eyes traveled the length of Myranda as though he was sizing her up. Sansa looked back at her and realized that she did in fact look like Arya; only older. Sansa hadn't seen Arya since she was a young girl of ten and that had been years ago. She would be a teenager now, wherever she was. Myranda could pass of as her as long as Arya stayed hidden and away.

How strange it was that the key to retrieving Winterfell was that her last remaining family stay missing; even though all Sansa really wanted was to have them back.

“Alayne.” Sansa turned when she heard her fake name. She began registering it with herself when someone called her. She wasn't sure if she should be pleased that she was recognizing her alter ego or if she should run from the Vale as fast as possible. She knew she wouldn't; if she didn't run after Petyr had pushed Lysa from the Vale, Sansa was certain that nothing could cause her to flee now. “I would like you to meet Roose Bolton, Warden of the North. Lord Bolton, my daughter, Alayne Stone.”

Sansa felt herself give Roose that demure smile she had perfected; the smile that was so unlike Sansa but perfect for Alayne. She gave a small bow and allowed her black hair to fall in her face. She could feel the tears threaten to fall but it took all of her strength to keep the tears locked away. When she had to raise her head, there was no trace of the emotions that she was holding inside; despite the fact that Roose's eyes were trailing over her.

“Lord Baelish, I must say she is far more beautiful than I anticipated. Especially if she is the product of one of your affairs.” Roose turned from Sansa and raised a curious eyebrow in Petyr's direction. It wouldn't be a complete shock for Petyr to have a bastard but it appeared that Roose was indeed surprised. “You mentioned her, certainly but before our acquaintance in King's Landing, I never heard of you having a bastard at all.”

“What can I say?” Petyr chuckled. He stepped toward Sansa and placed his hand on the small of her back, turning towards Roose. It was protective and Sansa found it far more comforting than she should have. He was a murderer but she had never felt safer, than she did now - in his arms. “Alayne was my best kept secret. I wanted to keep her safe and happy, not raised in a place like King's Landing. Not until she was ready. She was raised in Gulltown, with her mother.”

“And where is your mother now?”

“She passed on my lord.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you.” Sansa fixed him with a hard stare. She knew he didn't mean it; how could he? He didn't even know that he was apologizing for Catelyn's death and she wondered what he would say if he knew the truth. It wouldn't be condolences. Sansa found that she hated that term because words meant nothing. It was only uttered by those who couldn't prove that they missed the deceased. “It was rather sudden.”

“I'm hungry.” Sansa broke her gaze and turned to see Robin enter the dining area. Robin always threw a tantrum when he was hungry. If the food did not reach the table fast enough, Sansa found that his tantrums then were by far the worst of them all; and they only got worse with his increasing illness. The tonic that Sansa had to ensure Robin received daily seemed to make him worse and not better. Although, she knew that before Petyr left the Eyrie.

The rest of the party's eyes shifted and they quickly took their seats; even Roose. Sansa assumed that Petyr must have informed the older man of Robin's temperament; in a ploy to lure Roose into a sense of comfort. Petyr wanted Roose to trust him. If Roose was intelligent, he would do anything but trust Lord Baelish.

They all sat around the table and small talk began to commence. Myranda hung all over Harry but his eyes traveled the length of the table. Sansa found that his eyes landed on her several times and on an occasion, would travel to Roose. He seemed uncomfortable and Sansa realized that Harry must know of Roose’s involvement in her family’s death. He was concerned and Sansa didn't know if that she should be flattered or annoyed. He only learned the truth hours earlier and now he saw her in a whole new light; but Sansa could not forget his treatment of her for the past few weeks.

The servants bustled about and dinner was served quickly. Roose and Petyr stuck to themselves, discussing Myranda's marriage to Ramsay in hushed tones. Lord Nestor Royce was also in the conversation but didn't say much. Sansa, who was seated beside Petyr, could hear every wood, despite Robin's loud complaining. Sansa remained silent for the majority of the time, slowly sipping on the red wine Petyr had provided. Perhaps it was the wine but Sansa found that she couldn't hold her tongue for much longer.

“I hear congratulations are in order Lord Bolton.” Sansa stated loud enough for the entire table to hear. Myranda, who was simply hanging on Harry the entire time, pulled away from her gazing. Even Robin was silent and Harry couldn't look at Myranda at all. “The word is that your son is to be married. Hopefully an heir to Winterfell will follow shortly thereafter.”

“You would be correct, Lady Stone.” Sansa tilted her head towards Roose, for no one had addressed her in such a manner before. She could feel Petyr's eyes boring into her but she didn't look at him; continued her focus upon Roose. She kept her face impassive but she needed to know. “Ramsay is to be married.”

“Oh! How exciting!” Myranda chimed in. “Who is the bride?” Sansa quirked an eyebrow at Roose, almost daring him to tell her. Nestor rubbed the back of his neck in an uncomfortable manner. It appears that he hadn't plucked the courage to inform his daughter of her impending marriage.

“A beautiful lady, to be sure.” Roose stated, pleasing her with a lovely but false smile.

“Although, I'm curious if the brokers of the marriage should be trustful, for you're not known for sticking to alliances.” The entire table froze; not a single person uttered a word. Petyr slowly reached over and took the goblet from Sansa but she didn't care. She still had enough bravery in her to stare down Roose Bolton; at least more bravery than she had previously.

“I see your father informed you of my dealings with the Lannisters.” Roose picked up his goblet and took a slight sip but their eyes remained locked. “It is true that the end of my dealings with the Starks was...unsavory, but in the end, it benefited my family.” Sansa wanted nothing more than to throw the goblet Petyr had taken away from her at Roose and prayed that the goblet would shatter; slicing him up in the process. He claimed that murdering others to forward his family was worth it. Sansa could never imagine doing such a thing.

_She couldn't. Could she?_

Her eyes suddenly traveled to Myranda. She was willingly sending the other woman off to a fate worse than the Red Wedding. She was sending her because she didn't like her and she was a pawn to achieve the perfect revenge. One casualty in the grand scheme of the game was nothing. _But it won't just be one death? Wouldn't it?_

“So, murdering those who you were pledged to protect is perfectly alright as long as it benefits your family.” Sansa snapped back. “Can you see while I am concerned about my father going into business with you? How can I ever be sure that you won't betray us and we are the next ones’ dead at some grand betrayal?”

“I'm surprised that you keep your daughter so informed, Baelish.”

“What can I say, I share everything with my daughter.” Petyr replied and that surprised Sansa. He was opening admitting that she was the one person who knew him better than anyone. If anyone wanted to hurt him, all they would have to do is take her. Not only was that terrifying, but reassuring as well. It meant that Petyr would protect her at all cost. “But she clearly isn't feeling well. Isn’t that so, Sweetling?”

“Right.” She gave Petyr a tight smile and pushed her seat back. She stood and wiped off her fingers with her dining cloth before tossing it on the hard, wooden table. “You must excuse me Lord Bolton, it appears that I am not feeling my best. I will leave you with my father to continue your scheming.” She turned to leave but stopped and turned back to him. “If my father ever ends up the same way the Starks did, I promise you, that your head will be the first one I cut off.” Sansa made her way to the exit but she could clearly hear Roose's chuckle.

“I can see you in her now. She clearly is your child.” Sansa didn't want to be Petyr's child. She wanted him in her life but not as his daughter. She was the daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. She wanted to turn to him and strangle him for the sins he committed. “Although, there is a fire in her that I she didn't get from you. I suppose that she could have inherited it from her mother.” Sansa fled through the dining chamber door and ran until she was outside.

It was snowing, something common that high up in the mountains. It wasn't like the thick and high snow she was used to but it was close enough. The small flurries touched her skin and she felt the tears fall down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around her chest and closed her eyes. For a second, she pretended that she was back at Winterfell. For one second, she pretended that everything was right in the world and at any moment, Arya was going to pummel her with snow. She pretended that she could hear Robb in the distance, joking with Jon and Theon. Her parents were alive and Bran could walk.

“Alayne!”

And then it was ruined.

“Alayne!”

If only she could hold on for one more second.

“ _Sansa!”_ Her eyes flew open and she turned to see Harry strolling frantically through the snow. He took off his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn't even notice that she was shivering. She wasn't outside that long, was she? Did she allow herself to fall into that day dream that she couldn't realize how cold she was? “Are you insane?!”

“I didn't realize how long I was out here.” Sansa replied with the roll of her eyes. Harry took her arm and began to guide her inside but she pulled her arm out of his grasp quickly. She tossed him a dark look and he scowled. “I am perfectly able to find my own way inside.”

“Really? Because it appears that you were trying kill yourself by freezing to death.” Harry snapped and Sansa felt infuriated. She wouldn't allow her family's sacrifice to be in vain. She would never take her own life because it would mean that her family would never step a foot inside Winterfell again. When Sansa died, she wanted it to be inside of Winterfell. “Although, with Lord Baelish bringing Lord Bolton here, I wouldn't blame you.” Sansa was taken aback and looked at him with surprise. “It must have been very difficult for you to sit at the same table with him. Your outburst was warranted.”

“Thank you.”

“Although how you can attempt to protect Littlefinger is beyond me. Him bringing Lord Bolton here and all but selling Myranda to him confirms that he is pathetic; and yet you stick up for him anyway, not caring that he is sending Myranda to those people.” Hearing Harry condemn Petyr made Sansa want nothing more than to hit him across the face but she was refrained. “What is your relationship with him anyway. The two of you are too close.”

“I don't owe you an explanation.”

“You are to be my wife-”

“And you think you own me? Think again. _Lord Baelish_ is family to me. The last family I have and I will do anything to protect him.” Sansa snapped. “You may think that because we are forced into this arrangement that I will suddenly bow to you. No. I won't. King's Landing taught me that I will never bow to another man, even my husband.”

“But you will bow to Lord Baelish?”

“Not even him.” She believed her words. All of them. Petyr was family to her and she would do anything for him but she would never bow to him. If anything, the way he looked at her, she knew that one day he would bow to her. That intense desire in his grey-green eyes sent shivers down her spine. “I don't expect you to understand.”

“I don't.” Harry fired back. His eyes narrowed and his shoulders tightened. “How can you defend a man who is willing to sip an innocent girl off to a horrible fate? My aunt told me about the Boltons; about how they murdered your family and that bastard's history. Yet, you're perfectly fine with just sending her there; pretending to be your sister so the North accepts the Bolton reign? Why? I know Myranda can be challenging but she doesn't deserve that!”

“Because I need Winterfell back.” It surprised her that Harry knew that Myranda would be masquerading as Arya but it surprised her more that Waynewood would inform him at all. Only a few people knew that plan and she wasn't aware that Harry would be brought into the fold. “I need someone inside Winterfell and the best way to do that is to have someone in the family be an informant. It won't be easy-”

“They are monsters!”

“And this is war!” That caused Harry to pause. “Look around you! Do you honestly think that war is just battles fought on a field? Don't you realize that wars are won by powerful men making hard decisions? Yes. Sacrifices will be made and Myranda is a sacrifice! One that I am more than willing to make if it means that I am one step closer to regaining my home. But I don't expect you to understand that.” Sansa huffed and shook her head. She made her way to turn but Harry stopped her.

“I do. I do understand what Winterfell means to you.” Sansa tried to rid herself of his grip, but Harry cut her off. “While I may not be the master of the Vale yet it does matter to me.” Harry paused and looked up at the castle with a wishful gaze. “I grew up with the knowledge that one day I might be Lord Protector of the Vale but I never was sure if it would actually be mine. Robin isn't well. Everyone knows it and the reality of it terrifies me.”

“Robin is fine!”

“You don't believe that.” Sansa looked down and didn't say anything. “You say that I don't take this seriously; that I'm not ready to rule. You're right. I'm not ready but I do take it seriously. The Eyrie means just as much to me as Winterfell means to you. I get that. I get why you did it but it does not make it right.”

“Right and wrong. Black and white. Things are not that simple. The world is full of grey. Sometimes the wrong things are done for the right reasons and the right things are done for the wrong reasons.” Sansa shrugged. “I was raised thinking that everything was black and white. Then the man I thought I loved put my father's head on a spike. Ramsay and Myranda's marriage may be wrong but it won't last forever.”

“You can't ensure that.”

“No. I can't but if her sacrifice is what wins me Winterfell, then I'll do it.” Harry studied her as though he was seeing her for the very first time. His face was impassive and she was having trouble knowing what he was thinking. Harry had a very expressional face and Sansa always knew what was going on in his mind; except in that moment and Sansa hated it. In order to gage some reaction, she let the coat slide from her shoulders and into her hand. She tossed it to him; catching him off guard. “Thank you but I can keep myself warm.” Sansa turned and began to make her way back into the castle.

“I'll help you.” She paused and let those words sink in. She slowly turned and felt as though she saw Harry for the first time. His golden hair was damp from the falling snow. He was handsome and he looked like every knight she had ever dreamed of as a child. It would be easy to fall in love with him; at least in that moment but Sansa really knew him. She knew that he would never be faithful and that she would never be the only one he wanted. “I'll help you take back Winterfell.”

“I'm not asking you too. I have-”

“Lord Baelish. Yes, yes. I get that. I don't understand that relationship. I guess he is your Uncle because he married Lady Arryn. Either way, the two of you are a package deal; I get it.” _Let him think that._ Sansa thought quickly. “Anyway; Aunt Anya told me that your marriage to Tyrion has been annulled and there is nothing standing between us getting married; whether we want it or not. I don't want to be miserable for the rest of my life and frankly you have the power to do that. I don't like it. For me to be happy, you have to be happy and getting you Winterfell back, will make you happy.”

“Thank you. I don't know what to say but thank you.” She looked down at her hands and exhaled. She could see her breath fogging in the air and smiled, remembering old times. The harsh cold made it almost feel like home. “It won't be easy. This isn't like a fairytale. People will die. I could die and I am prepared for that. Are you?”

“I'm an anointed knight. I'll have to be.” That made Sansa laugh. Hard. He wasn't ready and that was all that Sansa needed to know. He was blinded by his own hubris and Sansa knew she would never love him. It wasn't possible for her but he had the Vale in the palm of his hand. Now, she had him in the palm of hers. The Vale would deliver the North to her.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know that Petyr didn't do to much in this chapter but it was mainly focused on Sansa and her emotions. I wanted to express how dismayed she was by being faced with her past. It is one thing to think on it in a moment of sadness, it is another to be brought face to face with the man who caused it.


	7. Sweetrobin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. So so sorry. That is all I've got. 
> 
> Life has gotten in the way for both me and my beta. I can't speak for her, other than I know she is extremely busy, but I live in a never ending state of exhaustion. With that, comes little desire or energy to write. I don't want to force it because then it just won't given the attention it desires. 
> 
> I feel that good writing is worth the wait.....right?
> 
> Forgive us?

VII: Sweetrobin

_Lord Robin. Six years old, sickly, and prone to weep if you take his dolls away. Jon Arryn's trueborn heir, by all the gods, yet there are some who say he is too weak to sit in his father's seat._

In the weeks that followed Roose Bolton's departure from the Vale, the weather grew worse. Yet, it didn't prevent the Knights from training. The snow was harsh but they continued to train; harder than ever before. Sansa watched Harry from the window in Petyr's solar. She hadn't spoken much with the young man but she knew that he was spending more time with his knightly companions and less time between some harlots. He wasn't a saint, and Sansa knew that he had taken a new mistress in the form of a kitchen maid. She supposed it was because Myranda had been sent North along with her father and Roose Bolton. Either way, Sansa found she didn't care what Harry did in his bed as long as he continued making this effort. He was taking his promise to win back Winterfell for her seriously.

Beneath the pompous exterior, Sansa could see a good heart and that infuriated Sansa. If Sansa would be willing to put aside his bastard children and his affairs, Harry was the perfect replication of the knight she dreamed about as a young girl. She would have been over the moon about her good fortune, living in the mountains, surrounded by snow swinging off the arm of this particular knight; even if he never became Lord Protector of the Vale. Sansa hated that about herself. She hated how foolish she had been. She was set to marry Harry but she couldn't think of anything she wanted less in her life at the moment.

However, it was important. They needed Harry, despite what she had told him. They needed the Knights of the Vale in order to accomplish their goal of regaining Winterfell. She needed the Knights of the Vale and those knights would follow Harry to the ends of the earth. They would follow him into battle if he asked them to. She just needed Harry to do as she asked. If she could bend the whim of Harry, then she would control an entire army.

At least that is what Petyr believed. He did as much scheming as possible to ensure that Harry took Sansa as his bride. She could see that he took little pleasure in the idea that someone else would have her. Even Sansa could see his desire for her written on his face. Yet, the need for Winterfell was far greater than any physical need to have her. If she was not betrothed to Harry, Sansa was sure he would have bedded her by now; and Sansa would have let him.

She desired him. Not Littlefinger; she needed Littlefinger but she wanted the man behind the mask. There were glimpses of the man who hid behind the wall he built for himself. She knew that he wanted to win Winterfell back for her. How did Littlefinger factor into it? Littlefinger would have some alternative motive that would shock her. There had to be some rhyme or reason as to why he would go against the Lannisters when they had been so good to him. There had to be another reason just beyond creating chaos.

_Right? Petyr was an intelligent man, there had to be more than simply chaos._

Yet Sansa was not sure. There was a chance that he chose her, beyond the simple fact of his desire for her, because her path could create the most chaos. Any path that went against the throne would. She wanted to believe that he actually cared for her, but in the back of her mind she was not so sure. She knew him and no one was going to pull her from him when she wanted to stay by his side. That was the issue, she wanted him but she also wanted him to truly want her.

She just didn't trust it if he would tell her so. He would have to prove it.

Sansa continued to stare out into the court yard where Harry was training. She didn't even turn when she heard the door to her chamber open; or when it was shut and the door locked. She felt his arms wrap around her middle and she leaned back into him. His lips came to her shoulder and she could feel the tickle of his mustache. She felt him kiss her skin and she sighed. She turned in his arms and wrapped hers around his shoulders. She leaned in and kissed his lips lightly, but never deepening it.

“Watching your fiancé I see.” Petyr teased her but Sansa could hear a hint of darkness there. It was obvious to her that he wanted her and hated the idea that he must give her to him. He would never hurt her, Petyr knew that. He just did not fancy the idea of another man holding her as he was now. “Patience, Sweetling. You will be married to him soon enough.”

“I don't want to marry him.” She pulled out of his arms and walked across her bedchamber. She leaned against one of the posts of her bed and crossed her arms. “If you think that I am enjoying this engagement then you are a fool. I enjoyed my engagement to Tyrion far more and I spent the majority of that one in tears; and it was a far shorter engagement.”

“At least Tyrion was intelligent. I did enjoy him. Harry however, is every inch the fool.” Petyr peeked out the window to see Harry ride past on his horse. If only the young boy would look up, he would notice that his fiancé had a man that wasn't him in her chambers. “I promise that your marriage won’t be long. You will be rid of the name Hardying as quickly as you casted off Lannister.”

“I was a Lannister until only a week ago.”

“Far more quickly then.” Petyr waved off her comment with a cruel smile. Sansa was sure that she wouldn't be granted an annulment a second time. No, Petyr would ensure that Harry did not live long enough to see children born; not that Sansa wanted to give Harry children at all. “But let’s put aside your impending marriage for a time and focus on someone else's.” Petyr reached inside of his cloak and pulled out a piece of parchment. “This arrived by raven this morning.”

Sansa reached out and pulled the letter from his hands. She could see that the seal was broken and the sigil of the flayed man could be seen in the red wax. Sansa took a deep breath and exhaled. With shaky hands, she opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment that was inside. She could see handwriting that she wouldn't describe as elegant but instead sturdy and strict. She began to read the words aloud even though she knew that Petyr would have already memorized each line.

“I would like to announce the marriage my son, Ramsey Bolton and his beautiful bride, Arya Stark, the last remaining member of the Stark family. May this union unite the North in a time of peace and prosperity. Signed, Lord Roose Bolton.” Sansa huffed in annoyance and put the parchment back into its envelope. “I assume that each kingdom has received a letter similar to this one?”

“Of course. Even the capitol. I am curious as to what Cersei would think of such a union, especially since Arya Stark has not been seen since your father's death. Cersei would either assume that Roose has been hiding the child or call our bluff.” Petyr chuckled. “I would take bets on the former.”

“Obviously. Cersei isn't that intelligent.” Sansa replied. Cersei wouldn't be able to imagine such a plan; at least in a way that it would work. “What will happen when she learns of this? Do you think she would strike against the North? If the Lannisters and Boltons battle it out, it could make our advance easier.”

“You have a mind for strategy. Yes, if Cersei learned of such an offense, there is a chance that she would revolt and send Lannister troops North. They would loose of course because they would not be able to fight in such a terrain. The North is too cold and wild for knights trained at the high of summer.” Petyr paused and Sansa could see his lips turn upward. “However, I highly doubt that Cersei will even learn of Ramsey's marriage to the fake Arya.”

“And why ever not?”

“Because she has lost the majority of her power.” Sansa held a confused look upon her face and he took that moment to enjoy it. “She has been imprisoned for her affair with Lancel Lannister. The High Sparrow has tossed her into a cell beneath the Sept of Baelor. I do not foresee her release being swift, unless she makes a deal. Either way, the High Sparrow is far more intelligent than she is and it will cost her.”

“Who is running King's Landing?! Margaery?”

“Oh no, Cersei had Margaery tossed in a cell well before the High Sparrow took Cersei.”

“What the hell is going on down there?!” Sansa was amazed. She had never realized that tension between Margaery and Cersei was so high. Perhaps it was because her time in King's Landing, she was focused on surviving that she didn't focus on the drama between the royal family. “Wait. You were just in King's Landing and the moment you leave, everything falls into chaos. What did you do?”

“You are perceptive. One of the many reasons I enjoy you so.” He teased but Sansa held his gaze. She was not going to allow him to leave her chamber until he answered a few questions. “Very well. To answer your first question, Tommen is still king. Now he has the High Sparrow whispering in his ear as an advisor; alongside his father of course. Two conflicting reports but I feel that Tommen would obey the High Sparrow over Jaime in hopes that he would get his precious Margaery back.”

“And your involvement?”

“You don't think that the High Sparrow was going to give you an annulment for nothing, now do you? I had to give him something in exchange.” Petyr moved away from the window and made his way towards Sansa. He took one of her dark curls between his fingers and pushed it behind her ear. “I offered up a boy by the name of Olyvar who was in my employ. He was able to give information on Loras Tyrell. Olyvar often shared his bed.”

“I'm assuming that means Loras is also in a cell?” Petyr nodded and Sansa gave a harsh laugh. “You whispered in the High Sparrow's ear and this caused him to toss both of Highgarden's darlings into a cell. I am sure Lady Olenna was pleased with this outcome.”

“I gave the High Sparrow information and what he did with it was his own doing. My hands are clean in this.” Petyr replied with a smirk and Sansa just gave him a dubious look. He may not have known exactly what the High Sparrow exactly intended with that information but he knew it would lead to something wicked. “And no, the Queen of Thorns worked very diligently to ensure Cersei will pay for her wrong doings.”

Petyr was extremely close to her by this point. She could feel his breathe on her skin and it caused goosebumps to erupt all of her body. She raised her hand and pressed it against his black cloak. She ran it up her chest and touched the mockingbird pin that was fastened safely at his neck. Her hand then moved up and cupped his cheek, her thumb tracing his cheekbone.

“Your hands are never clean. It is one of the things I like most about you.” It came out in an honest, husky whisper. She looked at him with hooded eyes and she could see the desire pulsing in his eyes. He didn't hesitate, instead he just leaned in and captured her lips with his. Their lips danced with each other for a moment before he increased the pressure. He deepened the kiss and Sansa wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

She pressed her body against his and enjoyed the feeling of his strong chest against her breast. Petyr ran one of his hands up the side of her until he reached her breast. He palmed her through her black dress and Sansa moaned. Their lips broke apart and she inhaled sharply. She had never felt such a sensation in her life. Petyr latched his lips onto her throat and began to suck at her pulse point. He moved his feet and slowly guided her backward until Sansa felt the bed behind her.

Petyr gently pushed her so she that she was lying on the bed with her black hair fanned out behind her. He crawled up her body and placed his hands on either side of her head. Their eyes connected. Petyr searched for any sort of hesitation or something that would hold her back. He found no fear or hesitation. It was all the invitation that he needed.

Petyr leaned down and kissed her lips but it was not as forceful as the kiss previously. Instead he only lingered on her lips for a few moments before allowing himself the graze down her jaw bone. Sansa's eyes fluttered shut as she enjoyed his kisses. She felt the tip of his tongue graze her collar bone once he was done with sucking on her neck. He didn't stay in one play too long; for he wouldn't want to leave a mark against her pale skin. He continued downward until he was kissing every inch of her chest. When he reached her cleavage, he couldn't help but stick his tongue and taste the skin between her breasts. He couldn't reach much for the cloth of her dress was blocking most of her breasts. He wanted nothing more than to tear the dress from her body but he knew that his resolve would not last. He moved up her body and hovered over her for a moment.

“While it is imperative for you to remain a virgin but that does not mean that I can't have my way with you.” Sansa breath hitched at the seductive tone of his voice. He leaned down again and took her lips with his. It was a breathless kiss that made Sansa shiver all over her body. Their lips fought for dominance but it was clear that Petyr was the winner. She could taste his experience on his lips and she realized that she wanted nothing more. How could a boy of Harry's age cause her to have this reaction? “There are many ways to cause pleasure and still allow your maidenhead to remain intact.”

“Stop talking. Show me.” There was a hint of annoyance in her tone and Petyr couldn't help but chuckle at her snark. He didn't reply with words but instead slid his hand down her body. Sansa found herself arching and reacting to the feel of him. He bunched her skirt in his hands and drew it upward. His eyes penetrated hers, never allowing their gaze to break while she felt the cold air graze her newly exposed skin of her leg.

“As the lady commands.” Sansa bit her lip as the warmth of his hand touched her leg. She gave him a teasing smile as he dragged his hand up the length of her leg. Soon his hand disappeared, being hidden by her skirt. When he reached her hip, she felt him trace the top of her small-clothes. He lightly brushed the fabric that covered her core before hooking his fingers the small-clothes and bringing them down her legs. Sansa lifted her hips in order to making the removal easier.

Petyr tossed the offending fabric over his shoulder and returned his hand back to her body. She shivered when his fingers brushed the area she wanted him most. She could feel the moisture building between her legs and an aching feeling that she knew his fingers could alleviate. Yet, Petyr wasn't being kind. She could see the mischief in his eyes and the need to make her suffer. However, in his benevolence, Petyr touched the nub that only she had ever felt before.

“Petyr!” He leaned down and took her lips with his, silencing her. His finger worked over her nub gently; differentiating in pressure with each stroke. Sansa's hips began to match the rhythm of his fingers and her legs spread themselves wider in hopes that he would be able to have easier access. The moments Sansa opened her mouth wide enough for Petyr's tongue to slip inside, was the same moment she felt his fingers slip inside of her. She all but screamed into his lips; feeling his smirk against her.

“Shh...wouldn't want to be discovered, now would we?” Sansa couldn't reply. All she could do was focus on the feelings of his fingers. Her hands curled, gripping the fur that covered her bed as though her life depended upon it. She bit her lip in hopes that he would squash her cries. She wasn't being successful.

All she could focus on was the intense pleasure that Petyr was giving her. She could feel an intense pressure building in the pit of her stomach. It felt as though it would rupture at any moment and she wanted nothing more. She just had to keep climbing until she could reach that peak and she knew that in order for that to happen, Petyr could not stop his fingers from touching her.

She was close to whatever it was she was searching for.

She was almost there.

Then.

“Lady Alayne?” A knock sounded on her door and both Petyr and Sansa froze. Their eyes locked with one another and there was panic in Sansa's. She felt Petyr's fingers leave her body and she let out a soft whimper. Petyr shot her a quick look before moving towards her wardrobe. He pressed himself against the wall in a position that when she would open the door, no one would see him. “Lady Alayne? Are you in there?”

“Yes. Just a minute. I was resting.” Sansa shot off the bed and looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and red. Her black hair was knotted. She was grateful that she didn't wear her hair in those fancy updos anymore because at least she was able to simply run her fingers through it in hopes of taming her hair. She turned and her eyes caught Petyr's. He had that mischievous glint in his eyes. He brought his fingers to his lips and began to suck them without breaking eye contact.

Sansa felt heat rush down her body due to the look that he was giving her. She narrowed her eyes at him and all he could do was chuckle. If she didn't have someone on the other side of the door, waiting for her to answer it, Sansa would have given him a tongue lashing. Whether she would use words or her actual tongue, she couldn't be sure.

Without another look in his direction, Sansa opened the unlocked the wooden door and opened it to see a servant girl on the other side. She had seen her around the castle but never bothered to know her name. For a split second, Sansa felt guilty about the fact but it was gone quickly enough.

“My lady. I beg your pardon but are you alright? I thought I heard moaning.” By the look in the servant’s eyes, Sansa could see that she was an innocent. Clearly, she had never been touched by a man nor had anyone told her what happened in the marriage bed. Only a few moments ago, Sansa realized that she herself had plenty to learn in that regard. She gave the servant a smile and brushed it off.

“My stomach feels unwell. I was lying down hoping that it would pass; nothing more.” The girl nodded and gave her an understanding smile; assuming that Sansa was suffering from her monthly curse. “What can I help you with?”

“It is Lord Robin my lady.” The servant's eyes became down casted and she looked at her feet. “He fell into a fever about an hour or so ago and has been crying for you. We tried to locate your father but he hasn't been seen since this morning. I think he might have road out to the village.”

“How bad is the fever?”

“The maester fears he may not live through the night, if he does, he will be gone by the end of the week.” Something dark and horrible settled in the pit of her stomach. It took everything in her power not to look towards Petyr. She knew that it was his doing. She knew that whatever he was giving Robin was not going to help him; she knew he was going to die but she never imagined it would be this quick.

“Let me freshen up and I will be there as quickly as I can.” The servant nodded. “Please...” Sansa paused as her voice caught in her throat. “Let Robin know that I am coming.”

“I will tell him, but I'm afraid that he will not hear me.” With that the servant turned and made her way down the chamber. She didn't bow and in the back of her mind; it was a fact that Sansa noticed; even though her mind was elsewhere. All she could think about was how that young boy, around the same age as Bran was dying in that very castle; and she helped kill him. Once the servant was out of sight, Sansa closed the door and turned towards Petyr. Gone was that mischievous glint and it was replaced by concern.

“Sansa...”

“You killed him...we killed him.” She took deep breathes and closed her eyes. Petyr was in front of her and he placed his hands on her shoulders. She knew that part of her should hate him for what he had done. Robin was her last family by blood but in truth his death would not ruin her like the rest of her losses had. Part of her, a dark part, was glad that he would be gone.

“You did not-”

“But I knew. I knew that you were poisoning him and I did nothing. I said nothing.” She looked into his grey-green eyes and remembered the feelings he elicited in her only minutes before. This man betrayed her father; murdered her aunt right in front of her eyes and now poisoned an innocent boy to further his own agenda. In that moment Sansa realized that she would forgive him of anything; even murder. “I'm sorry. It just came as a shock.”

“Don't apologize.” Petyr stated and placed his hands on the sides of her face. He gazed upon her and Sansa wanted to believe that he wasn't trying to manipulate her. She wanted nothing more than his looks of longing to be real; that he wanted her for herself and not her name...or even her body. “You have a choice Sansa. You’ve always had a choice.”  
“And what would I do? I don't want my head to be mounted on a spike.” She let her words linger. Yes, Cersei was the one who would be the one to call for the order of her death but there was also the fact that without Petyr's betrayal, her father might still be alive.

“I would never betray you Sansa. Never you. If you wanted out, I would send you to the Fingers to live out your days in peace, in my small holding. You would be well taken care of and I would hide your identity.” But she would forgo Winterfell. He didn't say it but she knew what she would be giving up. He kissed her forehead. “Go to Robin. I'll be along shortly.” Sansa gave him a questioning look. He took her hand and pressed it to the front of his pants. On instinct, Sansa wanted to yank her hand away but Petyr held it there; giving her a soft chuckle. “This is what you do to me and it would not be appropriate to attend to a dying boy in such a state.”

Sansa nodded but couldn't tear her eyes away from the bulge in his pants. He chuckled and it caused her to quickly turn around. She stayed still and she felt him come up behind her. He placed his hands on her hips and kissed her shoulder. He inhaled the scent of her skin before whispering for her to go; his lips still against her. Chills were sent down her spine and it caused her to all but flee out the door. If she stayed, there was a chance that she would no longer remain a maiden and Robin would die alone.

She wouldn't have minded either.

She quickly made her way through the castle in haste to see Robin. It really wasn't that she wanted to see him but she knew that she had to. She didn't like Robin despite pretending that she did. The fact that she was soon to be rid of him was pleasing but it was the simple fact she helped kill him; even though Petyr claimed that she didn't. She knew. She knew the sinister end that the young boy would meet and she said nothing. She said nothing when Petyr murdered her aunt and she was less involved with him at that point then she was now.

Her face flushed. Images of the indecencies that they just partook in flashed in her mind. She should be ashamed at allowing him such liberties but she didn't. She wanted to allow him to do it again. There was so much she needed to learn when it came to physical pleasure and she wanted Petyr to be the one to teach her. He was her teacher in regard to playing the game, why not in this matter also? She was certain he would not mind.

Her mind flashed to Harry. He was her betrothed and it would be his responsibility, once they were married, for him to take her. She didn't want that but Petyr said that it was important for her to remain a maiden until she was married; but there were other acts that Petyr and herself could indulge in. Perhaps once she was married, she would not keep her vows to Harry, for she knew he would not keep them either.

Adultery, it would not be the worse sin she committed.

She reached Robin's chamber and noticed that the door was shut. She knocked and heard footsteps on the other side. The door opened and Sansa saw the same maid that had come to fetch her, on the other side. She opened the door and Sansa entered. Her eyes at first, did not land on Robin but instead Harry who was sitting by his sick bed. That was something Sansa had not expected. She never thought that Harry would be one to attend to Robin since he was so anxious for the young man to depart this world. She quickly noticed that his eyes kept gazing upon the maid. It appeared that the maid would not be a maiden much longer and Sansa did not even care. Let him have her if that meant she could continue to have Petyr.

Her eyes then focused on the dying boy. Robin was pale, far paler than she had ever seen him. There was sweat on his brow and his breathing was shallow. The maid took a wet rag and dabbed at his brow while whispering soothing words to the young boy. Harry reached out his hand and took Robin's in his. Sansa wasn't sure if he was being sincere or putting on a show.

If he was just pretending to care, she didn't know if it was for her or the maid.

Sansa stepped toward the bed and reached out, taking the wet rag from the maid. She would have been more than content to stay where she was but she made a point to be caring towards the boy. It wouldn't do for her to be cold in his final moments. She gave the young girl a small smile and dismissed her. She grabbed a small wooden chair and placed it by Robin's bedside. She began to wipe his brow but didn't glance at Harry. She wondered if he would stay. She wondered if he could see the sin she just committed on her skin.

Harry was an experienced young man. Not as experienced as Petyr and she found that it was many of the reason why she found Harry wanting. He could never make her feel the things that Petyr had. Even now, as she falsely comforted a dying boy, he was sending chills down her body. It was sinful and it would cause her parents to be ashamed of her behavior. If they were alive and knew what she had done, what she helped Petyr do, they would never be able to look at her the same. This was the second murder she was an accomplice to. It was the second family member whose death she would help cover up.

Sansa found that while her actions had shocked even her, she really didn't care. Her family was dead and their opinions no longer mattered. Being noble got them killed and Sansa planned on living for as long as possible. She planned on living for as long as possible with Petyr by her side; even if she was married to another man.

“I'm so sorry.” Harry whispered and his tone pulled Sansa from her thoughts. She looked at him and she could tell that Harry contributed her distraction to the dying boy in front of them. He would never guess that Sansa wasn't really paying attention to Robin at all. “I know how much he means to you.”

“Thank you. Honestly, I don't know how to process it.” She placed the rag in the bowl of water that rested on the table beside his bed. “I knew he was sick but I didn't want to believe it. I thought he would get well. Logically I knew he wouldn't but I didn't want to think about it.” Part of her words were true. While she was willingly able to cover up Robin's murder as natural causes, she could not accept that he was dying.

Because that would make her a murderer.

It didn't matter what Petyr said; Sansa knew about the slow murder of Robin Arryn. That made her as guilty as he was. With Lysa, she didn't know that he was going to push her out the moon door; Sansa wasn't sure if Petyr knew he was going to push her. It wasn't until after the fact that she helped cover up her death.

Harry reached out and took Sansa's hand, startling her.

“It is not your fault.” She looked down at their linked hands and almost wished that she felt something. She felt the warmth of his hand but there was no emotion there. Even when Joffrey had touched her, she felt something; both when she thought she loved him and when she grew to despise him. She even felt more with Tyrion; at first disgust and then respect. There was a cough at the door and Sansa turned her head to see Petyr leaning against the frame.

His eyes were tied to Sansa and Harry's linked hands. Sansa couldn't make out his exact emotion but there was so many flowing through his eyes. Satisfaction? Pride? Mischief? Jealousy? Was Petyr jealous of Harry? Sansa couldn't imagine why; especially after what they just shared. She has not allowed Harry to touch her in such a way and they were engaged. She would allow Petyr far more liberates than her betrothed.

And Petyr was the one who proposed this match!

He couldn't be jealous.

_Could he?_

“How is he?” Petyr asked and Harry let go of Sansa's hand. The moment the engaged couple disconnected, Petyr pushed off the door frame and strolled over to the bed. His eyes took in Robin's pathetic form. He didn't smirk or seem proud at all. There was less emotion now than there was only moments ago when he spied their linked hands. Did he simply turn off the emotions he did not want to feel?

“Not well. The maester believes that he will not make it through the night.” Harry answered. Petyr nodded his head and attempted to appear grave by the news. He raised his hand and placed it on her shoulder; giving it a tight squeeze. It wasn't romantic or anything but Sansa knew he placed his hand there because she had held Harry's hand.

Petyr was jealous.

“I had hoped that he would hang on. I suppose I was in denial about his illness.” Petyr whispered; knowing that Harry would assume that it was thoughts he didn't want to voice aloud. He looked down at Sansa and she gave him a small smile. “How are you my dear? I know that you were close with Robin.”

_How are you after you left chambers?_ That is what his eyes said.

“I don't know. I haven't really had time to process it.” It was the truth. Sansa didn't know how she felt but she knew that she wanted to feel his hands on her again. Petyr's eyes pierced through her and for a moment, she could see that passion flash through him again. The same look he gave her when his fingers were inside of her. She looked down at Robin, unable to bare his stare anymore.

“Grief is hard to process. I'm sure with time, thinking of Robin will become easier.” Harry stated and Sansa couldn't help but become angry at his words. She narrowed her eyes and Harry's shoulder's squared. He could tell that he said the wrong thing.

“He is still breathing! Why speak of him as though he is already dead!? Don't ruin the last few moments of his life; even if they are of misery!” Sansa snapped and Harry flinched. “And don't lecture me on grief. I've lost several people in my life and I know what to expect when my family dies.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that.” Harry replied and she could tell that he meant it. She didn't want to forgive him. She didn't want him. Petyr squeezed her shoulder and it was obvious what he wanted her to do. He wanted her to marry him and thus she would have to forgive his thoughtless speeches.

“It's quite alright. My emotions are all over the place.”

“It is understandable. You're a woman after all.” Harry replied with a comment which was inappropriate to say. He seemed completely unaware how offensive his words were. Petyr squeezed again and his gaze clearly stated that she needed to let it slide. They needed Harry to want her; telling him off would not endure her to him. “And you? How are you handling this?”

“I will be fine.” Petyr replied in a terse voice. Petyr wasn't one who enjoyed being questioned. Even with Sansa, who he told more to than anyone in a very long time, he was closed off. To have the young boy, who brings out extreme jealousy in him, question him annoyed him.

“It must be difficult. I couldn't imagine being in your position. First Lady Arryn and then her son.” Harry shook his head and didn't see Petyr freeze; but Sansa surely felt it. She had never felt him go that still before. “He would be the last link you had to your wife.”

“Yes. He is.” Petyr replied through clench teeth. Suddenly, it hit Sansa; Petyr wasn't killing Robin as part of his game. He was but there was so much more to it. Robin was the last link Lysa had to this earth and Petyr wanted nothing more than to erase her completely from existence; even by killing her young son. Not for the first time, Sansa wondered the history between Petyr and Lysa had been.

_What had Lysa done to him? What had caused him to hate her so much?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the long wait. However, I hope this chapter made up for it. 
> 
> I wish I could promise that another wait wasn't in store but sadly I can't promise that.


	8. The House of Arryn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...I'm awful.  
> Sorry?

VIII: The House of Arryn

_As High as Honor_

Dark mourning took over the Eyrie even though Robin was still breathing. It had been three days since they got word that Robin was dying. The maester thought he would pass in the night but he had held on. He didn't wake but instead continued in a fitful sleep. At any moment, he would die and the Vale was just on edge, waiting for it to happen.

Sansa stayed by his side, refusing to leave him. Many said that Robin held on for the simple fact that Alayne showed such dedication to him. In trust, Sansa used Robin as a shield. Neither Harry not Petyr bothered her too much when she sat by his bed. Both men thought her positively obsessive nurturing was due to guilt, for very different reasons.

Harry thought that Sansa willed the boy to live because once he dies, Harry would become master. Since Sansa was due to marry Harry, the young falcon assumed that guilt of becoming Lady of the Vale plagued her. He expressed this thought to her the second morning of Robin’s sickbed. She chuckled and said she felt no guilt of becoming Lady of the Vale. She then looked him directly in the eye and stated that she felt nothing at all about their upcoming marriage. She could see that Harry didn't know what to make of that confession. She felt neither dread nor happiness of becoming his wife.

Sansa was pleased with her response because Harry then left the sick room all together.

Petyr, not so much.

He simply sat in the corner of the room with a book or letters of business; never saying at word. Yet, he was always there. It caused Sansa to become very nervous. They both were waiting for Robin's final moments and with him just sitting there as though nothing was wrong, worried her. He was showing no outside emotion but she knew that he must be feeling something. When no one else was in that room, Sansa could swear she would see something flickering in his eyes but it would be gone ever so quickly.

Sansa wasn't sure exactly how to act. She played the part of the doting sister to a dying boy but she couldn't wait for Robin to be gone. She felt guilt for that, but it was the truth. He annoyed her and from the moment that he had kicked down her replica of Winterfell, covered in snow, she knew that she wanted nothing to do with him. Sansa was always known for holding a grudge.

Which was part of the reason why she was avoiding Petyr. He wouldn't tell her why he pushed Lysa from the moon door or why he was killing her son. He said it was to further their ambition and help them regain Winterfell; but Sansa knew Petyr better than that. She knew him better than most. Something had to have happened. Lysa had done something and Petyr wanted to burn every inch of her to the ground; even her innocent child could not be spared of his wrath.

That is why Sansa sat by Robin's sick bed. She hoped that it would provide her with the answers that Petyr clearly did not want to answer. He had made a promise to tell her but he was as of yet to make it hold through. The more he hid from the topic, the more that Sansa wanted to know. She just could not understand why he wouldn't tell her. It had to be painful, but Petyr knew every painful memory that she had.

Unless he didn't trust her?

“Second thoughts?” Petyr's smug tone pulled her from her musings. She turned to him in his corner; speaking for the first time in days. “You have been spending an awful amount of time in this room, caring for the dying boy. Makes me think that you regret helping me but weren't you the one who ensured that Robin was taking his elixir while I was away?”

“Petyr!” Her eyes flashed towards Robin. They were alone in the room but Sansa wasn't sure if Robin would be able to hear them and if he did, would he be able to tell anyone?

“Don't worry, he can't hear you.” Petyr stood and made his way towards the sick bed. He looked down at the boy and Sansa clearly saw that dark hatred flash in those grey-green eyes. She wanted to comment but it was as though the words caught in her throat. Whatever he was thinking it was sinister. This dying boy did nothing to him but whatever his mother did, it was beyond forgiveness. “Even if he could hear us, he wouldn't be able to say anything. So, tell me – are you having second thoughts?”

“No.” Petyr cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, yes, killing Robin is unsettling but before this is over, his death will not be the worst thing that I have ever done.” He nodded and she could see the unspoken question. “And no, I do not regret anything else that we have done together.” His eyes bore into her and she felt the flames engulf her. The memory of his hands on her flashed across her memory.

It was as though Petyr knew what he was doing to her and he enjoyed her reaction. He reached out and gently touched her red hair. He allowed his fingers to drift through them and Sansa couldn't help but tilt her head into his hand. She didn't look at him but she knew that he would be smiling. He curled his fingers against her scalp and massaged. Sansa moaned and her eyes fluttered shut. Petyr leaned down and she felt his hot breath on the side of her ear.

“If it is not my touch that bothers you, then what is bothering you?”

“You're not honest with me.” The words slipped out before she could think and they caused Petyr to pause. He pulled away and the loss of contact caused Sansa's eyes to open. She looked up at him and his gaze was piercing. He wasn't pleased, but nor was he angry. Sansa knew what his anger looked like. It had been pure fury that was etched on his features when he pushed Lysa to her death.

“I've been more honest with you than I have with anyone.” She believed him. She believed that he had no idea how to be honest but she knew that he was trying with her. Yet, he still hid the one thing she needed to know. This would determine whether or not she could fully trust him. “Pray tell, what is it exactly that I've been lying to you about?”

“Why did you hate Lysa? Why did you really kill her and what could she have possibly done that would drive you to kill her son? Her innocent son?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Every word rushed together and once she was done, the silence hung in the air. Petyr's face told her everything. It was only a second but she could reach each emotion that ran across his face. It was beyond pain and beyond suffering. Sansa realized that Lysa caused the worst moment in Petyr's life.

“I can't. Not yet.” The words came out through clenched teeth. Suddenly Sansa realized that it wasn't that he didn't want to tell her, but couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge what had happened. Speaking the words aloud made it real and he had been pretending that it wasn't real for decades. “I want to tell you everything but the words, they just won't come.”

“Because you won't let them.” Sansa replied in a whisper and Petyr didn't reply. She looked back down to Robin and his hoarse breathing filled the room. She reached over and picked up a wet rag. She dabbed Robin's brow but it was done automatically and without any feelings. “I won't force you to say anything but one day I will want to know. I will want to know everything.”

“When I can...when this is done, I will confess anything you ask of me.” Sansa could hear the sincerity in his conviction and she knew it was the most honest thing he had ever said to her. The depth of his eyes reminded her of the moment that he had pushed Lysa out of the moon door. It was dangerous but it echoed everything that he had become. That one moment had set the course for the man who stood before her.

“Okay, but right now, can you at least tell me one thing?” Petyr didn't reply but he didn't refuse either. “Whatever she had done, whatever sin she committed, is it worth his life?” Sansa's head jerked towards Robin. Both of them gazed upon the dying boy once again; taking in his shallow breaths. “Robin is innocent, why should he pay for his mother's sins?”

“Just like you paid for your father's?” Petyr asked her and she was taken aback. Had she paid for Ned's sins? What were his sins? Being naive? Trusting Petyr? Trusting everyone? Had Sansa paid for Ned's actions? Yes. She was Joffrey's toy for months and it was all because her father had been a fool. She had paid the price for his negligence; as had all his children.

“Yes.”

“Yes. Yes, Robin's life is worth taking for what his mother did.” His voice was low and deadly but his eyes showed nothing but pain. It was always in the eyes. Petyr moved toward the small boy and pushed the hairs out of his eyes. For a moment, Sansa thought he was about to pick up a pillow and smoother him; completing the act before it was ready to be finished. “She took my life, it is only right that I take hers.”

Chills traveled down Sansa's spine. She couldn't fathom what he could possibly mean by that. Petyr was standing before her and was very much alive. How could Lysa have taken Petyr's life? What did that mean? Did she ruin his life somehow? If so, what did she do and what had happened to Petyr? He had become successful and rose higher than anyone she had ever met, and that included the kings and lords she had met. His claim only caused her to have more questions.

“You'll tell me when you're ready.” He nodded and then, Sansa stood. She walked over to him and took his hands into hers. Her thumb traced his knuckles and she saw his shoulders relax. She didn't even notice how tense he had become. Even in the most dangerous situations, she had never seen him scared or nervous; he was always in control. If this caused him to become tense, it told Sansa that this was the one moment in his life that he wished to forget. “I trust you and I will be here when you are ready.”

His eyes pierced hers and suddenly, Sansa felt as though she was seeing him for the first time. This wasn't the mask she called Littlefinger. This wasn't the Petyr she knew. This was whomever he kept buried. This was the damaged man that Lysa, and possibly her mother, had created. Sansa found that she didn't want to fix him, because that would change the man she has come to...adore? Lust after...and she wanted him as he was. However, she wanted to ease his pain. She wanted to help him and comfort him.

So, she did the only thing she knew that would lift his spirts in that moment.

Sansa leaned in. Her eyes fluttered to his and she saw a slight shift in his emotions. Desire replaced the pain he was hiding. He wanted her and Sansa couldn't help but admit that she wanted him as well. Her thoughts continued to play the feel of his fingers inside of her. She knew what happened between a man and a woman. Her mother had told her such details when she had turned twelve years old. Yet, before Petyr, she had never understood what it meant and what it could possibly feel like.

Would it be as pleasurable with his member inside her? Would it hurt? Her mother said it would hurt the first time but she could not imagine Petyr ever physically hurting her.

Mentally......it was possible.

Sansa eyes shifted downward but quickly she snapped them back to his eyes. She had hoped that Petyr didn't see the look, but he didn't miss it. Petyr rarely missed anything at all and he kept particular attention focused on her. He knew what she was looking at and smirked. He seemed far too pleased with her and that fire burned behind his eyes. His lips twitched and Sansa felt heat pool between her legs. No one, not even Joffrey when she had adored him, made her feel that way with just a simple look. He knew exactly what was going through her mind.

“While I appreciate the turn of events in your thoughts, I feel that it would be best if you left before I take you on this small bed.” Sansa's eyes flickered toward the small bed and saw Robin still unconscious. _Would he seriously take me on the same bed as Robin slumbered?_

Sansa didn't ask because she knew the answer. He would, perhaps touch her again, and Robin's presence meant nothing. It was clear that when Petyr wanted something, nothing would stand in his way. His past was evidence enough of that. If he wanted her then he would have her; and Sansa would let him. He stole her away from Kings Landing because he didn't want Tyrion or anyone else to have her, and in the process, he killed a king.

Nothing would stop Petyr when he set his mind to something.

“What if I wanted to be taken?”

“Sansa, you're playing a very dangerous game.” Petyr bit out and it was clear that he was struggling to keep his hand to himself. She saw that his hands were balled and it wasn't out of anger; Petyr was frustrated. Sansa was enjoying every moment of it because she realized that she enjoyed seeing him squirm.

“My life is a dangerous game. Why not add another element to it?” She teased him and he looked at her. She could tell that he was thinking of it. She could tell that he was an inch away from throwing his carefully laid plans to the wind and taking her maidenhead. Why give that gift to Harry when she knew he wanted it?

Because she couldn't risk becoming with child before she was married. She knew this. The issue was, she just didn't care. Petyr cared more about her innocence than she did. While she was ignorant, or at least just beginning to realize, in the ways of the flesh, Sansa felt that she lost her innocence the moment Joffrey made her look upon her father's severed head.

“Because you don't know the rules.” This caused Sansa to smile wide. She slowly stepped forward him until she was standing directly in front of him. His eyes were guarded but there was something hiding just beneath the surface. He was so close to her that she would feel his breath on her skin. Her hands reached up and touched his face.

“That’s the beauty of it, there are no rules.” She leaned in and kissed his lips sweetly, never indulging farther. She pulled away just as quickly before Petyr could grab at her and rushed out the door. She threw him a salty look over her shoulder and he could hear her pearly laugh as she fled. She didn't run out of fear but because she felt a rush a power come over at seeing him in such a state over her. It was empowering.

She rushed out the door quickly with a chuckle on her lips. She ran down the corridor as fast as she could until she knew that Petyr wasn't following her. She slowed down and smiled. She enjoyed that. She enjoyed toying with him. Petyr wasn't a man easily controlled but Sansa was learning that he could be manipulated tenderly. One brief encounter and Sansa felt that she had a stronger grip on him than before. She could only imagine what it would be like once she allowed him to have her body completely. Suddenly, Cersei's voice popped in her head.

_Tears aren't a woman's only weapon. The best one's between your legs._

Sansa stopped in place. Before, she never truly understood what Cersei meant until she felt Petyr's fingers gliding and stroking the parts her mother preached would only belong to her husband. Suddenly, she could see desire and cravings in Petyr and she knew that he would do anything just to have that taste again. But what would happen when he did?

Images of Robert and Cersei's marriage came to mind. Cersei was once the most beautiful woman in all the kingdom and it would be foolish to think that there was not a time that Robert didn't desire her. Then he grew tired of her after she bore him children; or at least believed that she bore him children. Harry was much like Robert in that way. She knew that he would grow tired of her once he had her; the only downfall was that they would be tied together until one of them died.

But would Petyr tire of her?

_Would he abandon her?_

Sansa was completely lost in her thoughts and concerns that she didn't hear the sound of a creaking door. It wasn't until she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and pull her into a small closet. When her back hit the wooden door, she thought for a moment that Petyr knew a few secret passages that would allow him to catch her unawares. However, when she looked into the eyes of the man who pulled her into a cramped space, she realized that it wasn't Petyr.

It was Harry.

She scowled at him and pushed him aside and he went willingly. She knew that Harry wouldn't harm her and that she was physically safe with him. He wasn't Joffrey; but that did not mean she took kindly to being accosted in such a manner. She narrowed her eyes and pushed herself out of his embrace. There wasn't much room in the small closet but she made due. She turned to face him, placed her hands on her hips and gave him a scalding look.

“What in the name of the Seven are you doing?” Sansa snapped and Harry had the sense to appear embarrassed. It was clear that he didn't even think before pulling her in with him. She glared at him but inside, alongside her irritation, there was elation. She wasn't elated because she wanted Harry but instead, it showed that he desired her. He grabbed her without thinking, which meant that her manipulations were working on him. She was winning.

“Sorry. I didn't think.”

“Clearly.” She snapped back. Her eyes shifted around the small closet. “Why are you in here?” Harry grew bright red. He then idly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He was embarrassed and Sansa couldn't help but smirk at him. She suddenly wondered if this was how Petyr felt every time she became embarrassed around him. “Wait. Are you hiding form someone? Who?”

“Lily?”

“Who is that?”

“The maid.” She seemed puzzled and then she remembered the girl who she saw Harry gazing at. She had never learned her name nor did she care. However, she did know that the girl was a virgin but it was clear Harry had taken that from her. “She has become rather clingy.”

“Can you blame her?” Sansa snapped. Her fiancé was bedding a girl who served her and Sansa found she really didn't care. Let him have his maids and perhaps he would leave her be; perhaps he would be so busy indulging in every woman that was not his wife that maybe he wouldn't notice if she brought Petyr to her bed. Marriage to Harry suddenly did not seem as awful. “That is what happens when you take a girl's maidenhead.”

“I don't-”

“I'm not a fool, Harry. I know you're not an altar boy.” He just looked at her; his eyes shifting over her, waiting for some sign that she was furious with him. However, she just looked at him and rolled her eyes; showing signs of impatience. “I don't care Harry. Have her. Have all of them. Really. Amuse yourself to whatever degree you seem fit. Just know that I won't protect you when you scorn the wrong woman.”

And she meant it. He was bound to dabble with the wrong girl and someone would want his head; or his penis. Probably both. He proved to her that he wasn't above sleeping with a high lord's daughter nor above taking a young girl's innocence, that is bound to anger someone. When the father of some ruined girl comes for him, Sansa would gladly lead him right to Harry.

“Sansa, wait.” Harry said when she turned to leave. She turned back to face him and gave him another annoyed expression. She cocked her eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “I don't want to hurt you. I actually like you and I think we could make an honest go of it. Once we are married, I could try and be faithful to you.”

It was clear he practiced that. Sansa imagined him standing in front of a mirror, rehearsing said speech over and over. Perhaps bedding the maid, Lily, made him feel guilty. Could Harry’s feelings for her be growing more than she had wanted them to? It didn't matter. She didn't want his faithfulness; because she had no desire to be faithful to him.

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Harry.” He looked almost hurt. The Sansa before Joffrey would have been excited to hear Harry's words. It would have been everything she had ever wanted; but she didn't believe him. She knew he couldn't remain faithful to her but he obviously thought in that moment it would be easy. As though she would be enough for him. “I won't be hurt again. I refuse it. It is just easier to accept the fact that you will have mistresses.”

Harry didn't reply right away but looked at her. She could see the battle raging inside of him. She could tell that he always wanted a woman to say those words to him. A wife that would allow him to have as many women as he wanted and not make his life a living hell for it. It was no secret that women were forced to live with the affairs of their husbands' but that did not mean there wouldn't be petty revenges in their husbands' lives.

Even her mother made Ned pay for his bastard over the years and she loved him.

However, Sansa could also see that Harry liked her. Genuinely liked her. He didn't want to hurt her and he knew that his affairs could cause her misery. However, what he didn't know was that Sansa didn't care. In fact, if Harry kept a mistress or two, then he would be more likely to leave her bed alone, and free for someone else to fill it.

“I want to try.” It amazed her that he would even contemplate the idea of faithfulness. It took her aback. Once she had thought she could change a man, when she was nothing more than a child but now she knew better. Before her was a man who wanted to change but she knew he wouldn't.

“I expect nothing from you Harry. Don't make promises that will only make you miserable.” She quickly made her out of the cabinet and down the stone hallway. She didn't look behind her. She didn't want to think about Harry's desire to make an honest go form their relationship. It was forced on them, much like all of Sansa's relationships. She was done with it and wanted nothing more than to ruin it. Sansa was not going to make any effort to make their relationship work. She would marry him but beyond that, he could do as he pleased; as she would she.

“Wait!” Harry's voice carried behind her but she didn't turn around. Instead, she picked up her pace and broke out into a run. She made her way out of the castle and into the fresh snow. Snow made her heart hurt. It reminded her of everything that she once was and the life that was taken away from her in a bloody mess. “Sansa.” Harry's voice hissed.

She felt the same hand grasp her wrist again and twirl her around. Her ice blue eyes flashed at Harry's desperate ones. Blue orbs looked at her pleadingly; they reminded her of a young puppy and Sansa found it difficult to be angry with him. She could almost picture her younger self being married to Harry, before Joffrey had come into her life. She would have forgiven him for every affair. Suddenly, Sansa found her anger seconds after she lost it.

“Let go of me!”

“Alright. Alright; but just hear me out.” Sansa sighed and crossed her arms. She cocked her eyebrow, a move she had learned from Petyr, and waited for Harry to continue. “Look, you and I are going to be married. That’s well… it is for a life time. Forever.” Harry paused, collecting his thoughts. “At the end of the day, you will be the woman who I come home to and you're not a bad person.”

“Why, thank you good Sir.” Sansa snapped sarcastically. Honestly, Harry only saw the bits Sansa allowed him to see. He didn't know her. If he saw her for who she really was, he would eagerly proclaim her to be a bad person. She helped cover up a murder and she knew she was about to do it again. “Exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

“You're a good person, despite your sharp tongue. It also doesn't help that you're beautiful as well.” Harry replied with a smirk and Sansa had to fight to keep one off her face. She knew he added that in there to make her smile. Sansa was always told she was beautiful. Joffrey called her beautiful. Tyrion called her beautiful. Petyr called her beautiful. Hearing Harry say it didn't make it special. “And you're intelligent. Far more intelligent than myself.”

“That much is obvious.”

“But I'm not a fool.” Harry pushed forward, ignoring Sansa's insult; although, Sansa did think Harry was a fool, she just wouldn't tell him that. “I would be a fool to muck this up. You would be the perfect Lady of the Vale; you've proven yourself far more than most women. You are everything I imagined my wife would be. However, you have the ability to make the rest of my life miserable. We will be bound together until we are old and grey, I do not want to spend the majority of my time avoiding my home because my wife hates me.”

Sansa just smiled at him. In truth, she did have the power to make Harry's life a living hell; mainly because she didn't fear him. If it had been Joffrey, Sansa would never even have dared attempting to make Joffrey's life hell. Tyrion was too good, despite the fact that neither of them wanted to be married to one another. With Harry, Sansa knew she would enjoy tearing into him each night after he had had some whore. She almost looked forward to it.

However, she knew that if she had anything to do with it, she would be widowed before Harry ever got his first grey hair.

“Marriage can be miserable. Most people of our station marry out of some sort of honor or some arranged affair.”

“Our engagement is an arranged affair.”

“Yes. Exactly and our marriage will be what we make of it. We can let ourselves grow bitter, like the majority of the marriages I've seen or we can try and be happy. Therefore, I am willing to be faithful and all I am asking from you is an honest go. All I ask is that you try and be happy.” Harry took a deep breath and Sansa could tell that he had reached the end of his speech. She could see the relief coming off of his shoulders. He had practiced this.

“Let me ask you a question.” Harry paused and she could she his relief freezing with those words. He had thought that she would happily accept his offer of felicity and say nothing else. It showed her how little he really knew her. “If you never learned who I really was, if you still thought I was Alayne, would I receive the same speech? Or would you have continued to treat me with distain because you thought yourself too good to marry a bastard?”

Her question was harsh and she knew it; Harry had the grace to look ashamed. She could see that the easy answer of 'yes, of course' was on his lips. However, he looked at her and for a moment, Sansa saw that there was much more than the small-minded man she knew. He really studied her and perhaps, Harry knew more of Sansa than she wanted to admit.

“No. I never would have made this offer.” This caused Sansa to laugh. She brought her hand to her lips and couldn't stop herself. She laughed harder and harder; the bewildered look on Harry's face only made her laugh harder. “Glad I could amuse you.” She held up her hand and nearly toppled over. Harry caught her and stood her up right. She blurted out an apology.

“At least you're honest.” She sighed and looked at Harry. This was why she couldn't believe that he was honest. His devotion came with conditions. He wanted her because of where she came from and the blood that ran through her veins. He didn't want her because of who she was, but what she had. “You do not realize what your words mean, do you?”

“I think that my words mean exactly what I said.” Harry's eyebrows creased in confusion. He didn't understand what she meant and Sansa found that she was getting impatient. She found it obvious but clearly Harry didn't share her intelligence.

But she couldn't call him out on it.

Instead, a deep bell sounded over head and it sent a chill through her. Harry and Sansa shared a look between the two of them, both understanding what it meant. The bell toll was ominous and she had only heard it once before; the day Lysa was pushed through the moon door.

They all knew what it meant.

Robin Arryn was dead.

Both Harry and Sansa raced back into the castle and stormed up the stone steps where Robin's chamber was. The door was closed but Sansa could see the Lord Declarants gathered outside. Their heads were bent together and they were frowning. She could see in between them all was Petyr, and his eyes were bright red.

It appears as though he had been crying but whether or not those tears were genuine, Sansa did not know. She wouldn't put it past him to be able to cry upon command. Sansa just didn't think him capable of true tears; yet, the story of Lysa was still unknown to her that it was possible that Petyr felt some remorse for doing what he had to. Sansa wanted to believe that he was capable of feeling something for the boy; even though she herself couldn't stand Robin.

Sansa knew, with out a doubt that Petyr had finished Robin when she left that room. How, she did not know but she knew that he did. If he had actually felt some type of affection for him, wouldn't that make his murder far worse than it already was?

_Why do I care either way? It is not like I have any real affection for him, do I?_

Sansa shook those thoughts from her head and pushed her way through the Declarants. To them, she was close to Robin and it would seem strange if she didn't demand to see the boy. She stormed through the door and entered the bedchamber. Once inside, she looked around and noticed that the windows were open despite the freezing cold outside. She noticed that Robin was still on the bed but he was covered by a sheet.

She stepped towards the bed and reached down. She pulled the sheet down and saw Robin's pale and sickly face. His eyes were open and his eyes stared at her. It wasn't the first body she saw but it the first one whose death she was involved in. Her stomach twisted in pain and she thought for a moment that she was about to be sick.

She heard the creak of a floorboard behind her and she turned. Harry was entering the chamber and his face was pale. Harry had been in a few small skirmishes but never a real batter. Either, he had seen a dead body and had caused a few deaths as well. However, it was clear that the weight of the world suddenly rested on his shoulders. While dreaming of a throne was far different than actually achieving it.

Robin Arryn was dead.

The House of Arryn was dead.

Harold Hardying was now the Lord Protector of the Vale.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and be better guys. I really am.   
> Hopefully life allows me too.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this story will be broken down into four parts; each part dedicated to a season. For example, this one is dedicated to rewriting season five. 
> 
> Thus it is called: 
> 
> Until the Ink Dries: V
> 
> Season six will be, Until the Ink Dries: VI
> 
> and so on and so forth. Each story or season will have ten chapters (like the show) EXCEPT seasons 7 and 8. Those will have twelve. Mainly because the outline was not working with just ten chapters (we will not get started on the clusterfuck that was S7 only having 7 episodes). 
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this and how I feel the show should have gone. Please note that I am focusing more on the show and not the books-even though I am brining in some book characters for season 5. Everything from S1-S4 is cannon for this story (with the exception of where be started off).


End file.
